The Writing Games (Book 1 of the Finn Hartman Chronicles)
by EnchantedNuns
Summary: 18-year-old Finn Hartman's family has been a member of an underground, religious cult for generations. This year he gets reaped for the Hunger Games. Finn's Cult wishes to seize power over all the districts, but has been very unsuccessful, so he is their next attempt in the power struggle. Yet Finn also wishes to avenge his fallen lover Ian, who died in last year's Hunger Games.
1. Finn Hartman

**A.N.: Cover made by PotterOwl on Wattpad. Originally, this story was drafted as a contest, but I eventually won and continued this story because I liked it so much.  
**

Tribute name: Finn Hartman

District: 6

Age: 18

Appearance: He is copper-skinned, black-haired and has smooth features like a classic Greek statue, with deep, dark-brown eyes. He's 5ft. 8in. tall, but seems taller as he always wears a long, raven cloak over his clothes. He appears to 'stare' a lot.

Backstory: His family has been a member of an underground, religious cult for generations, which resulted in a very unconventional upbringing. He's an only child to his mother, who killed his father minutes after she found out she was pregnant. Raised under the strict wings of the Cult, he learnt all about poisons, manipulation, extreme muscle and nerve control, and various martial arts.

Anything else? His Cult wishes to seize power over all the districts, but has been very unsuccessful, so he is their next attempt in the power struggle. Yet he also wishes to avenge his fallen lover Ian, who died in last year's Hunger Games. His favourite weapons are daggers strapped to his legs and poisonous darts concealed under his sleeves.


	2. The Reaping

**A.N.: The first two chapters may seem like your ordinary amature fan fiction, but I wrote these a long while ago and I wanted to keep them this way to show the progression I made in my writing. So don't let the quality of the first two chapters hold you back from reading the others!**

Today is the day when everything changes. Today is the Reaping. All citizens need to attend, so Mother and I hurried to the Justice Building. It looks like an old, grey train station, which fits District 6's specialization in transport.

As I stand on the town square now, together with all the boys, I can't help but look over my shoulder to find my mother. Our eyes meet and we gaze at each other for a moment, speaking more words through our expressions than otherwise possible. We nod and I look ahead of me again, where a row of Peacekeepers guards the main stage.

In a few moments the ceremony will begin and right there, on that stage, Leshana Merryweather, our Capitol Representative, will pick a boy and a girl. Leshana's a 48-year-old woman who has an obsession with red. Everything about her – clothes, hair and shoes – is mostly bright red.

Anyway, my name is Finn Hartman. I'm 18, so this is the last year my name is in the boys' Reaping Ball. _The perfect time to be reaped!_ I shouldn't be so excited, but I'm not your average District 6 guy.

Let me explain. My family has been a member of an underground, religious cult for generations. This Cult wishes to overthrow the Capitol and seize power over Panem. Combined with its manipulative methods, it uses the Hunger Games to send in a tribute, win, and start a revolution.

Not a single member ever succeeded, though (otherwise I wouldn't be standing here, of course), so this is where I come in. This year I'm the Cult's tribute and I'm determined to win. Yet I'm not just doing this for the Cult; I have a hidden agenda.

Last year my lover, Ian, was reaped for the Games (oh yeah, BTW, I'm gay). He was an amazing boyfriend and a terrific archer, but, nonetheless, he was killed, ironically enough by that year's Cult tribute. However, later on the idiot tripped and fell down a gorge, breaking his neck.

Either way, my Ian wouldn't have died at all if these "Games" didn't exist, so my second motivation to win is to avenge Ian's death and make the Capitol pay in blood!

I already practiced my revenge on the Peacekeepers. The past year I killed at least one a month and Mayor Marcus Jones has had difficulty hiding it from the Capitol. He's actually pretty nervous about it.

The doors of town hall open and Leshana Merryweather walks out. As expected, her hair and her pumps are a bright red. She's wearing an extravagant, huge, red dress laced with pink fur. Red ribbons are sporadically attached to her dress.

I look over my shoulder a second time, but now to take in the whole scene behind me with my always observant eyes just the way Mother taught me. I see people staring blankly ahead, others panicking a bit and lastly folks with tears in their eyes.

I turn around again to face Leshana, who's grinning. It's unsettling how she's always happy about the Games. I'm smiling too, but not as much as her. Her grin is just borderline psychopathic. I smile slightly, just enough to seem noble or courageous. _It's all in the details!_

The whispers fluttering through the crowd die down as Leshana makes her way to the microphone on stage. She's shown on the big screen, put up on the side of the Justice Building.

"Welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!" her voice echoes through the speakers. I pick up a hint of disgust in her tone.

She quickly moves through the ceremony. First, she announces the Capitol's propaganda video, which is then shown on the screen. When it's done, she keeps smiling and babbles about the "honour" of the Games. Secondly, she immediately switches to picking the female tribute, saying "Ladies first!"

She walks to the glass bowl on her left, dramatically puts her hand in and pulls out a little card. Back at the mike, she opens the paper and reads: "Holly Jones!"

I look over my shoulder once again and see a 16-year-old girl with shoulder-length, brown hair leave the crowd. She's wearing a yellow dress with pastel flowers on it, but has a distant look in her blue eyes. Without hesitation she walks on stage and goes to stand next to Leshana.

Our Capitol Representative then continues with: "And now for the boys!"

She repeats her act with the bowl on her right and pulls out my name. I know she'll say my name because the Cult made sure of it. I do, however, wonder how they did. Maybe a threat here, a blackmail there, an unfortunate 'accident', or perhaps even a sudden 'suicide'? Anyway, Leshana will say my name, forced to or through sabotage.

"Finn Hartman!" she calls.

I act surprised and scared for a moment, then I straighten my back and stride away from the crowd towards the stage. I let the raven cloak I'm wearing wave in the wind as I walk. My face should be an impenetrable mask of courage, but the closer I get to the Peacekeepers, the more difficulty I have controlling my expression.

As I close my eyes, a whole world unlocks itself within my mind. Memories of Ian trickle in, my thoughts wander. Last year's Reaping plays before my eyes.

* * *

_Ian and I stood next to each other between the other 17-year-old boys. Since everyone was so very busy with worrying about the Reaping, no one noticed we were holding hands. His large hand delicately held mine, calloused from all the training._

_He smiled his ever so handsome crooked smile to me while Leshana Merryweather did her boring routine. I scowled when she mentioned "honour" a third time during her speech._

"_Smile, honey! We wouldn't want to disappoint the Capitol, would we?" he joked._

_I scowled again: "The Capitol can kiss my..."_

"_I know," he interrupted. That he did indeed; he knew me better than anyone._

_In the two years we were dating, our relationship had been secretive, but with more passion than the way Capitol residents watched the Hunger Games. Ian was the only person I had ever met who was just like me and who felt the same way about me as I did about him._

_As I watched his rugged and masculine face, and ignored Leshana, I wanted nothing more than to kiss him. That had to wait, though, so instead, I tightened my grip on his hand._

_He noticed and his crooked smile appeared again. He knew just what to do to melt my heart. But that would all be destroyed in 3, 2, 1..._

"_The tribute boy is...Ian Collins!" Leshana said._

_With that one simple sentence, my world collapsed. Ian's smile instantly disappeared and so did mine. His grip tightened on my hand and I was close to breaking his._

"_Ian Collins?" the voice, sounding distant in my ears, repeated._

"_Shut your pie hole!" I wanted to scream, but that would've made the Peacekeepers angry._

_Ian slowly let go of my hand and moved away from me. Tears formed in my eyes and I stammered his name: "I...Ian!"_

_He didn't speak, but his lips formed the words 'I love you'. Quickly realising there was nothing I could do, I did the same._

"_I love you."_

* * *

By the time that painful memory ended, I was on stage next to Leshana, who had Holly on her left. I numb the pain that lingers and fulfil my job for the Cult. I look over the crowd, a courageous expression on my face. I have to look like a hero in their eyes, so I play my part.

Next, the three of us turn around and enter the Justice Building. _May the odds be ever in your favor_, I think.


	3. A Duty and a Promise

Once inside the Justice Building, the Peacekeepers lead me into a room, leave me there and close the door. Finally alone, I breathe a big sigh of relief. In here I let my guard down to give my mind a break for a moment.

After a minute of composing myself, I look around the room and inspect it. No architectural abnormalities, nor odd air streams, so no hidden espionage chambers. There also appear to be no concealed cameras or microphones, but you can't be sure with the Capitol.

More at ease, I stride towards the lone, simple couch in the centre of the room. I sit down and start doing precise muscle exercises to keep me busy while I wait for my visitor, my mother.

It isn't long before she enters the room. Silently and gracefully, she strides inside, after which a Peacekeeper closes the door again. As Mother approaches me, her raven cloak sways slightly. It covers her entire body and conceals part of her face.

A few inches away from the couch, Mother stops and throws the hood of her cloak on her back, revealing her deep black hair, a similar shade to my own. Like I did before, she inspects the room and quickly comes to the same conclusion as me.

Suddenly, she starts signing me in the secret battle field language of the Cult with her right hand.

"Can we talk?"

"It's safe," I sign back with my left hand.

"So the Cult proved its superiority in manipulation once again," she starts the conversation. A bit of an unusual statement, but she was never really good at expressing her emotions. The Cult's strict prohibition on feelings certainly didn't help either.

"Apparently. Then again, doesn't the Cult manipulate us all to do its bidding?" I challenge.

"Finn! Don't speak such profanity! You knew this was coming and there is no turning back now."

"You don't say?" I respond with heavy sarcasm. I'm not trying to start a fight here. I just want her to act normal, like a mother should.

Her nostrils flare and she almost wants to shout, but she calms herself down and continues.

"You know your duty and I hope by the Great Mother that you'll fulfil it. That being said," she reaches inside of her cloak and takes out a small, silver object, "I want you to take our family's gom jabbar into the Games."

I'm baffled as she comes closer and hands me the little gom jabbar. It's a silver snake coiling around its own axis, which fits one's index finger perfectly.

Carefully, I shove it over my finger and steady my index finger, controlling even the tiniest muscle. Instantly, a long, paper-thin needle shoots out from the mouth of the snake. I move my left hand with extreme caution because I know this needle was tipped in one of the most lethal poisons known to man.

"Is this...?" I stammer.

"Yes. It's the exact same gom jabbar I used six years ago to test your humanity."

She's referring to my trail with the nerve-induction box. I had to place my hand inside of this box, after which it simulated extreme pain. Mother held the gom jabbar near my throat to make sure I wouldn't flinch. If I had, the gom jabbar would have killed me.

But I made it through, which confirmed my humanity according to the Cult's standards, so this gift means more to me than you can imagine! I loosen my left index finger and immediately the needle retracts.

"The silver will mask the needle if you're ever checked for unauthorized weapons. Use this wisely, my son, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

"Thank you, Mother," I whisper.

She nods, turns around and walks outside of the room before her emotions get the better of her.

When she's gone, I close my eyes and retreat to the depths of my memory again, in search for strength and solace. All I find is a dark, gaping hole where my happiness once resided. The happiness that the Capitol tore away from me in the form of last year's Reaping.

* * *

_Immediately after Ian entered the building, I rushed through the crowd, so I could be with him. My mind blank, I strode towards the tainted door guarded by a Peacekeeper. I didn't even notice him opening it as I entered._

_And there Ian was, the love of my life. He sat on the couch, hunched over, his large hands in his flaxen hair. He was motionless; he hadn't noticed me yet. Not surprisingly really, I'm silent as a ghost._

_Carefully, I advanced on him and when he still didn't look up, I sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder._

"_Ian?" I whispered. I was trying very hard not to sound too worried, but I failed._

_He turned to me, shock and delight fighting for control on his face. Delight won, and he smiled his crooked smile._

"_Hey, sweetie, how's your day so far?"_

"_Don't joke about this!" I sneered. "You'll be fighting for your life! I may never see you again!"_

"_Exactly," he said confidently, "so I don't want the last moments with my boyfriend to be filled with despair."_

_I straightened my back and gazed at him with confused eyes. He straightened up too and placed one hand on my left thigh and the other on the back of my neck._

_His touch sent shivers down my spine and my heart longed to kiss him. Instead, he spoke._

"_The first time I talked to you, I nearly pissed myself. I was so nervous! But I managed to anyway, because I knew you were special. You were nothing like anyone I'd ever seen before._

_And when your big, bright eyes locked into mine, I knew you were my one true love. Since that day I made a promise to myself. No matter how hard our relationship would get, I would never stop loving you."_

_I let go of my last shred of emotional control and started crying my eyes out. My inner floodgates opened and dense streams of tears ran down my face._

_Next, I pushed myself forward and pressed my lips against his. He instantly returned my kiss and kissed me with intense fury. The sensation of his lips intertwining with mine electrified me with an emotional current too strong for me to handle._

_Ian then pulled me closer into his embrace and it wasn't long before my slender body was on top of his, which was that of a lumberjack. His musky odour seeped into my nose, intensifying the urges within me that were fighting for control._

_A tiny voice in the back of my mind warned me that we could get caught, but I ignored it. For all I cared, we could've had one of our infamous sexual collisions._

_I remembered how Ian managed to whisper something in my ear:_

"_I love you."_

* * *

A sudden presence alarms me and I escape from my memory, only to see a small, old crone. She has the posture of a vulture and the nose of an eagle. Her short, curly, white hair folds loosely around her face. She stands still in front of me in her black cloak, like a large crow.

It's the High Priestess, also nicknamed 'the Raptor'. Although she's the leader of the Cult, her official title is 'the elevated one amongst her equals'.

I stand up and bow slightly. She then waves her hand to tell me that's enough and I straighten up again.

I see her observant eyes taking me in from top to toe, as if she's trying to determine whether I'm the right choice for this year's Hunger Games. When she's done, she peers into my eyes with her emotionless stare.

"I came a long way for you, Finn Hartman. Should I regret that decision?" she frowns and her eagle's nose wrinkles.

"The conclusion of an observation depends entirely on the observer," I quote one of the Cult's dogmas.

She snorts and steps forward, her vulture's posture threatening.

"We choose our tributes for the Hunger Games years in advance based upon genealogy and skill. This year it's your turn, because of your mother's previous training and the talent you displayed before me when you were younger."

At the age of 13, I was sent to the Raptor's mansion in District 2, where I had to show my skills. Out of my entire generation, the High Priestess and her councillors chose me. Thus, I became the Cult's tribute five years later.

But years before my birth, my mother went through the same process and was chosen too. Yet, six months before the Reaping, she fell for my father's charms. He accidentally knocked her up some time later.

When the Raptor and her council found out, they were furious. But not as furious as my mother, who, in a moment of blind rage, killed my father minutes after she had heard that she was pregnant.

Thus, the Cult added my mother to its list of failures since she was useless because of her pregnancy. All preparations for a revolution were cancelled, as well as the manipulation to try and get my mother in the Games.

"Yet, it has come to our attention," the High Priestess continues, "that you have become a heretic."

She grins broadly and now I snort. The term 'heretic' is an inside joke of the Cult, referring to members who either teach their children too much, or follow their emotions.

"I assure you, High Priestess, that I'm completely loyal to the Cult," I lie. The Cult's goals are a means to an end. By starting a revolution, I'll obliterate the Capitol and avenge Ian, which is all I really care about.

The Raptor and her companions might frown upon me for my feelings, but you can't judge what you do not understand. And that will always be the Cult's fatal flaw.

"Don't play fool with me, boy! Win these Hunger Games or else..." she threatens.

"Or else what? You'll kill me?" I retort.

She frowns, her eagle's nose wrinkly again.

"If I don't win, I'll be dead. An evident failure, but there's nothing more you could do about that. And if I do win, you had better not antagonise me. With a possible revolution at my side, I could be just as much of a threat to you as to the Capitol."

"You wouldn't dare!" she snarls and, in doing so, arches her back. It emphasises her vulture-like posture.

"Wouldn't I?" I grin. "Are you willing to take that risk...High Priestess?"

She scowls, but then quickly composes herself.

"Very well. You can do whatever you see fit to win the Games and we will prepare the seeds for a revolution."

Reluctantly, she turns around and strides out of the room, swaying her black cloak silently. I sigh and slip back into the couch, tired from all the commotion.

Soon a Peacekeeper tells me my time is up and he escorts me to the train. I close my eyes one last time and try to remember my lovely Ian.


	4. The Train Ride There

I look out the window into the darkening surroundings. Everything is blurred by the incredible speed of the train zipping through the landscape. As the evening sets in, we haven't yet reached the Capitol. It's a day's journey away from District 6, even by train, so time management is key.

I don't mind the long trip, though, as long as I'm being left alone. Since I can do plenty of preparations before our arrival, I'm not bored at all. Although I should exercise to keep my muscles on edge, I spend most of my time remembering Ian, my deceased soulmate.

His deep voice, his crooked smile, that confident glint in his eyes. After our sexual collisions, I used to rest my head on his slightly hairy chest and stare into those grey eyes for hours, but it were never really hours. His teasing gaze always invited me for another round of love making. He never even had to say a word.

I also remember the first time we made love. We had been going steady for over half a year and somehow we had ended up in bed. Ian had felt so confident that he even farted four times in front of me. I was not amused, but he just laughed at my inconvenience and gave me that same smouldering look he always gave me. I don't know how or why, but we had made love a second time right after.

_Love making._ I've always considered people who called sex that way fools. Even when Ian and I were together, I had simply referred to it as sex or copulation. I suppose that was a lingering influence of the Cult.

Now I catch myself being a fool. It's astounding how Ian changed me. Or rather, how his death did. _You never know what you have until it's gone_, I hear sentimental folks mutter in the back of my head. I chuckle. _When did I become such an emotional wimp?_

Without a doubt, Ian's death triggered something inside me. Seeing him get murdered, Live, broadcast over the whole of Panem, penetrated me all the way to my core. There was no way I would just stand by idly anymore. Something needed to be done.

With renewed fury, I thrust myself into training again. I spent every waking moment of the day perfecting my muscle and nerve control and pushed myself to exceed all expectations. Mother was quite pleased. She said my performances had never been this exquisite.

Remembering Ian's death brings back other memories than training too. Much more recent ones actually, of the televised events of today, mostly the Reaping. Leshana Merryweather calling out my name with her booming voice, the quiet crowd, Holly Jones, the female tribute, scared to death beside Leshana. Next the surprisingly emotional parting with my mother and the amusing tantrum of the High Priestess.

After our goodbyes, Holly and I were taken to the train station in a small car. We were accompanied by Peacekeepers and the ever so positive Leshana. However, during the ride, none of us said a word, which was a relief. The last thing I wanted was mindless cackling.

Our little car drove past the tree line leading up to the pompous train station of District 6 and stopped as soon as we arrived. So near to the station, the building looked even more overwhelming and enormous. But since transportation is District 6's specialty, the size of our train station isn't surprising.

When I turned to my side, I was surprised to see Holly looking up at the station like a tourist would. Not that any of the districts ever receive 'tourists', though. Following her example, I stepped out of the tiny vehicle and gazed at the immense building.

Although Holly might have been admiring it, this was strictly business to me. As we had been almost constantly filmed since the Reaping, I quickly searched the high, sandstone walls for cameras and film crews. I also knew from previous Games that the Capitol liked images of the train stations, especially ours for obvious reasons, so there had to be cameras.

To an ordinary person the lenses would have been nearly impossible to spot, but I saw them. I knew exactly where the Capitol had hidden their devices and used that to my advantage. Cockily, I looked straight into the cameras and grinned. _Let them gawk at that!_

While Holly was still distracted by the station, two more cars skidded to a stop behind ours. The last one was pretty plain and stuffed with Peacekeepers. The other one, on the other hand, was in excellent condition, shining bright like polished cutlery. However, its passengers were more intriguing.

Besides Peacekeepers, a man and a woman stepped out of the vehicle. The woman appeared to be about 5ft. 7in. tall and had long, curly, blond hair. The man, on the other hand, was clearly over 6ft. tall (my best guess was 6ft. 3in.) and slicked back his long, blond hair.

The two of them had remarkable green, almost blue-ish eyes. The more I examined them, the clearer their similarities became. They obviously had to be related, possibly siblings. But then I realised something: I recognised them!

I hadn't paid much attention to them, but I had seen them at the Reaping. Not just this year's, I'd seen them sitting on that stage for as long as I could remember. They were our mentors! Then a second realisation hit me.

Only former Victors can be mentors, so this meant that they both won a previous Hunger Games. _Siblings!_ The odds of siblings being reaped are very slim, but the odds that they both survive are astronomical! This pair could teach me more than any of my Cult tutors.

Before I could use this information, though, the Peacekeepers escorted us into the station. Leshana in front, Holly and I behind her and our mentors behind me. I couldn't tell what either of them was whispering because of the loud trains, so I simply stared at the station's architecture.

The District 6 Station can be divided into two large parts: the upper-levels, where the fancy trains like the Capitol's are, and the lower levels, where less important and local trains are kept. Today we would only see the upper-levels, which included the phenomenal main hall.

The main hall was tiled with clean, polished, deep blue marble. Humongous sandstone walls rose up into the air, flowing over in large arches. This created the illusion of a wide open space together with the natural cascades of light shining through the windows.

Above the entrance a big old-fashioned clock ticked away, not caring about the worries of the humans below, but simply counting the hours with its typical _tick-tock. _High above, where the large arches connected, a marvellous dome with frescoes decorated the building.

The frescoes showed the story of how Panem came to be, how the Capitol struck down the rebellion and how they send children off to the slaughter in their 'honourable' Hunger Games. Although the painted figures were beautifully styled, their message was clear: _We, the Capitol, control every aspect of your life; do not forget!_

Slightly distracted with the architecture, I didn't notice Holly making a beeline for the information desk. But just when I did, she stopped, turned around and rejoined our group. _You're a bit peculiar, aren't you?_ I thought.

After passing a few platforms with ordinary trains, we reached the Capitol train. It truly was a sight to be seen: ultramodern, a flashy bright red colour and clearly superior in every way. The Capitol wouldn't be satisfied with anything less. Its seal was printed on the side of the train next to the word 'Capitol', should we forget where we were heading.

A Peacekeeper held the door of the train and Leshana boarded first, but then Holly decided to test her luck and said:

"Leshana, you forgot to say something to the gentleman holding the door."

Our mentors behind me nearly gasped and the other Peacekeepers stiffened. I, on the other hand, raised an eye-brow and smirked. _Scratch peculiar, insane will do._

Leshana, either embarrassed or angry, glared at her as if she was going to rip Holly's head off. _Now, you've done it! You'll be dead before you even board the train and Leshana will probably use your blood as her new hair dye_, I joked in my head. Surprisingly, Leshana just cleared her throat.

"Yeah, thanks," she muttered with evident sarcasm. She turned around again and went about business as usual. Holly, relieved to be still alive, boarded next, then me, our mentors, and lastly the Peacekeepers.

When we were all in the first carriage, Leshana resumed her role as Capitol Representative. She gestured to the shiny bar and the small tables.

"This is the bar car. My cart is the next one. Don't go in there," _wasn't planning to_, "After that there are two carts that house your mentors. Ladies first, boys second."

The male mentor scoffed, which Leshana didn't notice at all. Apparently he didn't like being called 'boy' and I couldn't blame him.

"Holly," she continued, "yours is next, followed by Finn's cart. After that there's a cart for the Peacekeepers, and finally there's the dining cart. Now, goodbye."

Without further ado, she made her way through the aisle to the next carriage. I wondered how she was able to hold her balance in that huge, red dress of hers through that narrow space, but frankly I didn't give a damn. A door slammed, which meant we were left to care for ourselves.

Our group then scattered through the train. Most Peacekeepers and the male mentor stayed in the bar carriage, serving themselves a cool pint of beer. A few Peacekeepers and the female mentor, on the other hand, went ahead and made their way to their carriage.

The train had started moving, rapidly building up speed, as I also went to my carriage. Holly followed me closely. I didn't pay attention to her until I had passed her carriage and she asked me a question.

"Finn, how could you be so confident at the Reaping? You were just chosen to die and you seem as if it's normal for you."

Her actually semi-intelligent question took me aback, so I answered as honestly as I could. "We all have to die one day or the other. Only now it's in the Hunger Games."

It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie either, so my tone should have calmed her. Instead, she was completely shocked. Her pupils had even widened to the size of marbles.

"Yes, but it's murder! Murder to children who have the rest of their lives ahead of them. Odds are, Finn, we're not getting out."

"I know. It's a cruel, inhumane thing, but this is the way it is and we can't change it now. The best we can do is fight, fight with every shred of strength we have inside of us," I tried to cheer her up.

"Easy for you to say. You're a guy. Boys are stronger and built more for this sort of situation. I'm just a girl who works at a train station fixing up trains and handing people their tickets. Though," she paused, "I guess you're right."

"Gender plays no part in the Games. Whoever's more cunning will win and that might as well be a petite girl who fixes trains and sells tickets."

This finally did the trick as her pupils shrunk again and a little confident smile appeared. She wasn't done, though, and, for some reason, I didn't mind. With her sweet innocence and quirky manners, Holly had built a bridge between us.

"What about the Careers? There are six of them. Even if I were to have amazing skill at something and lots of training, I couldn't beat them all. I'm just one person," she asked.

"Don't worry about the careers. _I'll_ handle them," I smirked mischievously. Again, I wasn't lying. My plan is to take out the Careers first at the Cornucopia, so I won't have to deal with them when my strength has dwindled. That didn't soothe Holly, though, because I could see worry take control of her face again.

"Well, I guess that's another thing I don't have to worry about. I better get going, talk to you later."

She entered her room and I headed toward my own. When I opened the door, my room was dark. I quickly felt for the light switch and found it on my left. As the light washed over the interior, I stepped inside and closed the door.

It didn't take me more than a quick glance to notice the superfluous luxury. Posh, fluffy carpet, crystal chandelier, leather sofas (plural!), oak chairs and table, silk bed sheets and a mattress as soft as a cloud. This was more luxurious than anything I could ever need or want.

I also noticed a caramel-coloured wooden door. I went to it first and opened it. As if the room hadn't been extravagant enough, it had a squeaky clean bathroom with all the modern comfort a Capitol citizen could imagine.

The bed had been tempting already, but the shower in the bathroom had my name written all over it. I almost ripped my cloak from my back and hurried to undress myself, but then my training kicked in.

_Luxury and wealth blind us. They distract us from our purpose and duties. Don't fall for them, because they will simply lure you into a gilded cage_, my mother's voice sounded through the cracks of my memory. I stiffened as this doctrine echoed on.

I then looked down at my naked body. I was still dirty from a life in District 6, but I also saw my training scars, or 'reminders' as my mother liked to call them. And on my left index finger was the biggest reminder of them all: the gom jabbar. That tiny silver snake snapped me back into reality.

I carefully picked up my clothes, which I had thrown on the bathroom floor just moments ago, and folded them. I placed them on the sink diagonally across from the shower and then picked up my woollen cloak. _I need to handle this with care. This is my background, my origins. I mustn't forget!_

I hung the cloak on a hook across from the sink and cautiously stepped inside the shower cabin. I only pressed the hot water and soap buttons, the bare necessities. The hot water and soap poured over me and I promptly washed.

As soon as I was clean, I pressed the same buttons to stop the flow and exited the cabin. I dried off and took my clothes and cloak into the room again. There I laid them on the bed and turned to the wardrobe across the room.

The clothes inside were brightly coloured, expensive and, needless to say, too excessive. However, I did find a white T-shirt and dark blue trousers. Not quite my taste, but they would do. I put them on and covered myself with my cloak again, so I at least felt like me.

I heard the door open and instantly jumped around, ready to attack if needed. In the doorway, frozen half in motion, probably startled by my reaction, stood the male mentor. I relaxed when I saw him and he continued to enter.

"You have strong reflexes. Good," he complimented me. His voice was a deep bass that oozed authority. "But those reflexes alone won't help you."

"I'm aware of that," I said stoically.

"Well," he moved uneasily, "I'm Anthony Kingston, your mentor. Your name was Finn, right?"

"Yes."

Clearly uncomfortable in this situation, Anthony got right to it: "How are you planning to win?"

"I will run for the Cornucopia, grab whatever weapon I can get my hands on and start killing of the Careers," I was curious how he'd respond to that. Most tributes are given the advice to grab something and run, but I wanted to kill.

"You need to be pretty darn fast to do that," he laughed. "You honestly think you can take out the Careers in the first few minutes?"

"I can try," I grinned.

"You'll need a better strategy than that. I suggest you..."

"No," I interrupted, "the Careers are my biggest obstacle. If they're out first, I can take out the rest one by one. That way I will have used most of my energy on the tougher ones when I still have the energy to do so."

He frowned. He realised I made sense and that I wouldn't change my plans, even if the Careers were giant demons spawned from hell.

"You know, as your mentor, I could help you with..." Anthony started.

"I know," I nodded. "There's much I can learn from you, but strategy-wise I'm covered. However, survival and tracking are not my forte."

He snorted. "At least there's something I can teach you," he smiled, "Let's talk this over at dinner. My sister can give you some tips too."

_Sister. I was right. _I wasn't that hungry, though, so I said I wouldn't be joining them at dinner. Anthony grumpily accepted my apology and left my room.

* * *

A while later, right before dinner time, I heard my door open again, but I didn't turn around. I assumed it was Anthony again, trying to convince me to come to dinner anyway. I was doing muscle exercises on one of the leather sofas with my back to the door and an expensive lamp stood next to me.

"Anthony, I won't join you guys for dinner. Just..."

Yet then I heard someone take a deep breath and jumped up. Just when I did, a black baton crashed over the sofa and smashed the lamp next to me to pieces. Its parts flew across the floor and the room became slightly less lit.

Hunched over the leather couch was a female Peacekeeper holding the black baton. She didn't hesitate to launch herself at me, leaping over the sofa. With her arm stretched, she came at me baton first.

I turned my body to dodge her strike and swung my right leg up. My foot kicked her hand, which made her release the baton. Then I turned my body even more and sent my hand crashing down on her neck.

She collapsed on the floor, but rolled over facing away from me and scrambled to her feet. Yet before she could attack me again, I propelled forward kicking my legs up, alternating between them. Some of my kicks hit her chest, others her face, and one even got all the way up in her eye.

When she fell down to the floor again, I pounced her, rolled her over and grabbed her in a headlock. Her head tightly locked in my left arm, I brought my face to her ear. I could already smell the alcohol on her breath.

"I know five ways to rip your throat open unarmed. Two of those involve my teeth, so you better answer my questions, got that?" I hissed into her ear. With her eye already discoloured and the rest of her face badly bruised, she nodded quickly.

"First of all, who sent you?"

She bit her lips to keep quiet, but when I tightened my grip, she squealed and blurted out:

"The High Priestess!"

I was flabbergasted, but then anger helped me focus again. "Why?"

"She wanted to enhance your background. If you arrived in the Capitol bruised, the people in the districts would be outraged. It would also help explain your hatred toward the Capitol. She only wanted people to empathise with you."

"Really? She didn't think I could get people to pity me? To feel the pain I've felt? Well, I've got news for her: I don't need her artificial background. I have a background of my own which will bring tears to the people in the districts and it will be far more effective than a couple of bruises."

I let go of her head and she plummeted to the floor. Her body convulsed and she threw up on the fluffy carpet. The stench of almost digested alcohol filled the room and the Peacekeeper spy coughed as if she was about to drop dead.

I shook my head in disappointment. "If you're supposed to be undercover for the Cult, you're doing a lousy job! Drunk and poorly prepared. You are a disgrace to us all! Leave my sight!"

She looked up at me and scowled. She wiped the vomit off her lips, got to her feet and stood in front of me.

"The High Priestess won't be pleased if I don't finish what I started," she slurred.

"You're lucky I didn't kill you!" I yell. "Leave my room at once or _I'll_ finish what I started. Be sure to remind the High Priestess of our earlier conversation. She'll understand."

Badly bruised, she left my room wobbling on her drunk feet. After she left, I threw the shattered lamp in the trash and cleaned up the vomit. The rest of the evening passed uneventfully.

* * *

So here I am, looking out the window, watching the sky go dark. Although I refused Anthony's invitation, I am quite hungry now. I haven't eaten much all day, so I really should get some food. Hunger triumphs over stubbornness and I go to the back of the train.

When I enter the dining carriage, the table's already cleared away and only personnel and a few drunk Peacekeepers are still present. The latter doesn't notice me, but the kitchen staff watch me with terrified eyes like a deer about to be run over.

"I know I'm too late for dinner, but could I perhaps get something to eat?" I ask as polite as I can manage. Two waiters exchange confused looks and run off to the kitchen. Unsure if I'm actually going to be served, I sit down at the cleared table and patiently wait for my delayed dinner. The drunk Peacekeepers still haven't noticed me and keep mucking about.

After a few minutes, one of the waiters returns and arranges a complete set of plates, glasses and cutlery in front of me. When he's done, he stands beside me.

"What would you like to drink?" he asks kindly.

"Water will do."

He nods and walks off to the kitchen. Not much later, he returns and fills one of the glasses with water. He takes the other glasses with him and leaves the water bottle behind in a bucket of ice. I take a sip of my water and lean back in my chair.

I catch one of the Peacekeepers talking about his colleague who got herself a black eye and some bruises by bumping into a cabinet, after which a suitcase fell onto her face. I chuckle at the spy's excuse and how gullible her colleagues are.

A few moments later, the other waiter serves me a few ladles of steaming soup. I thank him and dive my spoon into the deep plate. The soup is very creamy, almost velvety, and has vegetables and spices in it I've never tasted before.

Without a big fuzz, the other courses are served and I don't leave a crumb behind. Absolutely stuffed, I leave the dining carriage and go to my room. As soon as I crawl into bed, I fall asleep. However, a single thought goes through me: _This bed is way too soft._

* * *

The next morning I'm up early, flexing my muscles and practising my kicks. Leshana catches me in the middle of my exercises and her jaw drops. I immediately stop when I see her.

"I just came to say breakfast will be served shortly," she takes me in from top to toe and purses her lips, "I see you'll make a fine tribute. Carry on training! The Capitol loves a show."

She leaves and I resume training, although it now weirds me out to. After a couple more kicks and twists, I head towards the dining carriage and seat myself among the others.

The waiters are already bringing around plates of scrambled, boiled, fried and even poached eggs. A basket with buns, rolls and toast sits right under my nose and I take one of the buns, butter it up and take a big bite. I also scoop some scrambled eggs and small grilled sausages onto my plate.

Soon Holly arrives as well and coincidentally sits down across from the Cult spy. She doesn't notice, though, and eats some fried eggs and toast, but when she looks up, she immediately spots the spy's wounds.

"What happened to your, umm, face?" she points out rather bluntly. The bruised Peacekeeper turns her head and I catch a glimpse of fear in her eyes as our gazes meet.

"I don't want to talk about it," she responds. Holly doesn't think twice about it and continues her breakfast. At this point our train shoots through the tunnel that leads to the Capitol. The windows are completely dark, but the glowing light bulbs enable us to see.

We quietly continue breakfast until Leshana jumps out of her chair and glues herself to the windows. The dark tunnel has disappeared and a shiny, bright city comes into view. Leshana can't contain her excitement and starts babbling about the riches of the Capitol.

"We're here," I hear Holly mutter on the other side of the table.

_So Capitol, we meet at last_, I think._ Let the Games begin!_


	5. Pedo Bears and Porcupines

**A.N.: Thanks to PotterOwl on Wattpad for designing my cover. Also, thanks to carination on Wattpad for criticising my first chapter. To all other readers, enjoy Finn's makeover!**

As our train slows down into the Capitol station, Leshana and Holly run for the door. I walk after them, curious but reserved. The Peacekeepers, including the bruised Cult spy, follow behind Anthony Kingston and his sister, our mentors.

By the time our small procession reaches the door, Leshana and Holly have already opened it and Holly's spinning around, failing her arms as if she's having a drug-induced vision. _As I've said before, she's a bit peculiar._ After she accidentally hits Leshana, who tells her to knock it off, she stops.

From behind the two of them, I can see the myriad of brightly coloured people awaiting us on the platform. They had already been cheering and applauding when the train first rolled into the city. However, when we get off the train, the crowd manages to roar even louder. They're even screaming our names with their high-pitched voices._ They could break glass if they screamed in unison, I swear._

The Peacekeepers then come from behind me and clear a path for us through the crowd. Leshana, our mentors and I follow them closely, but oddly enough Holly approaches the masses. She shakes hands with them and talks to a few children. Unlike her, I have no desire whatsoever to mingle with these people who can't wait to see me battle 23 other teenagers.

As we make our way through the swarm of Capitol citizens, flashing cameras photograph us from all sides. At the sight of the media, Leshana basks in their attention, striking the oddest of poses. The Kingstons, on the other hand, raise their chins and look straight ahead as if they're above these people. I copy their confident posture while we close up to a dull, square building.

It's in this building where we'll have a makeover and start the chariot ride to the training center. We abruptly stop before it, which causes Holly to bump into one of the Peacekeepers. She must have been too distracted, as usual.

"Well, I think we're here," she beams with weird enthusiasm. The Cult spy with the black eye just glares at her.

"Come along guys," Leshana resumes control again as she guides us into the building.

* * *

A while later, I'm led into a well-lit, white room and told to strip down completely. I hesitate at first, but when a creepy man tucks at my cloak, I flinch away and remove it myself. The same man watches me with embarrassing fascination as I take off my other clothes.

He has green hair twirled in a weird whipped cream fashion as if his head were a sundae. His skin is coated with a sparkling gold powder and he wears orange contact lenses. He's also wearing a neon blue business suit.

When I drop my clothes on the floor, he picks them up cautiously as if I suffered from leprosy and touching my clothes could cause his limbs to fall off. His eyes widen when he sees my scars, but he remains silent.

Eventually, I stand before him in just my underpants and the gom jabbar around my left index finger. Yet the man shakes his head.

"Strip down completely, young man!" he bellows, stretching the vowels. _Honestly, what a ridiculous, high-pitched accent!_

Uncomfortably, I turn around and slide my underpants down my legs. With my right hand awkwardly shielding my genitals, I hand him my underpants with my left hand.

He snorts. "No need to cover yourself. It's not like I haven't seen a naked boy before."

I'm not sure whether he meant it differently, but his reassurance engulfs me with rage. These Capitol people think they can boss everyone around, but they're going to be mightily disappointed when they tell _me_ what to do.

"Seeing as my privacy will be non-existent during the Games, I'd like to keep my private parts private for now," I grit through my teeth. He rolls his eyes and shrugs.

He then leaves the room with my clothes bundled up. Realising I might lose my cloak forever, I shout:

"Wait! Could I have my cloak back before the chariot ride?"

Seemingly uninterested, he turns around and says:

"I'll run it by Catilina."

He turns around again and leaves. _Darn, now I'll never see my cloak again!_

Now that he has left, I take the time to inspect this bright, white room. It's really basic: just a leather hairdresser's chair and large oval mirrors above a dresser. Expecting the green-haired pedo bear, I sit in the chair and face the mirrors. It occurs to me to look for something in the dresser's drawers to cover my crotch.

Just as I fold a beige towel over my private area, I hear the high-pitched voices of my prep team. Barging in like a flock of ostriches, the prep team enters the room and swarms around me. It consists of three individuals: the gold-skinned pedophile and two women. One of the women, who appears to be the oldest, grins as she sees the towel over my genitals.

"Arminius warned us you were self-conscious," she giggles. "Don't be afraid! We won't touch your private area. Just the rest of your body."

Oddly enough, her sarcastic remark soothes me, at least more than Arminius' reassurance. The woman wears a fluffy, blue wig with silver highlights. She has pale skin with hot pink floral tattoos starting at her eye-brows and curling down along her neck. Her strapless dress is a dark magenta purple colour and reaches all the way to her indigo pumps.

"I'm Eleonor Rosenthall and I'll be waxing those nasty hairs that cover your body," she announces. She's thoroughly exaggerating because I can barely see my own body hair. Compared to the density of Ian's body hair, I'm smooth like a baby bottom.

_Ian. _The name takes me aback. _How casually do I mention you, even though the mere thought of your death brings tears to my eyes?_ But that doesn't mean it wasn't true. He did have more body hair than me. As soon as the thought came, it disappears and Eleonor, unaware of my miniature inner struggle, introduces the other members of my makeover team.

"You've already met Arminius. He'll fix your hairdo. And this is Bestia," she gestures to the younger woman. "She'll work on your nails."

Bestia has yellow hair pulled back in a ponytail. Unlike her colleagues, her tan skin has no alterations, except for fluorescent green eye shadow and lipstick. She's also wearing an all-black body suit that brings out her curves.

After the introduction, the team immediately gets to work. Bestia picks at the nails of my right hand and Arminius smears my hair with a thick gel while Eleonor does something similar to my leg. Yet Eleonor also applies a strip of paper on the smeared area and then yanks it off.

I wince and it takes me more than just some breathing exercises to block out the incredible pain. And then Eleonor repeats the process. And again. And again... Meanwhile, the three of them gossip about people I've never even heard of.

It's only when Eleonor is halfway through my torture that I notice Bestia is staring at me with her blue eyes. I also realise she's been picking the dirt from under my nails in the same, conspicuous fashion since the makeover began.

Then I realise she's actually picking in a pattern I recognise. She's messaging me in the Cult's secret battle field language! I'm so baffled by this realisation that I yelp when Eleonor rips off another waxing strip.

"Ow!"

She snorts. "That wasn't even a painful one."

"You think? I found it rather unsettling," I say, eyeing Bestia. While Eleonor sticks on another waxing strip, Bestia repeats her message. This time I pay close attention.

"Cult spies in the Capitol are willing to sponsor you," she messages, "but their riches are thinned out by decades of Hunger Games. You _will_ need additional sponsors."

Since the foundation of Panem, Cult members have been infiltrating the Capitol. They posed as maids, nannies, 'ladies of leisure', etc. and then seduced rich Capitol men. Eventually some married their target, moved to the city and had children, whom they then raised in the Cult's fashion.

After the rebellion, these Capitol-born Cult members used their family's money to sponsor Cult tributes. Since the prices in the arena can be unbelievably high, it doesn't surprise me that their wealth has shrunk.

"What does that mean?" I tap with my right index finger.

"Drop the arrogance. Scowling won't get you any sponsors either. Make the Capitol pity you, or at the very least like you," she picks in a different pattern than before. _Oh Great Mother, no! I have to be nice to them._

"How?"

"That's your problem." She stops picking at my right hand and switches to my left, but doesn't message me anymore.

* * *

When Arminius, Eleonor and Bestia finish their makeover, they drag me in an adjacent bathroom. In there they shove me in a bathtub, fill it halfway up and add some acidic-smelling soap to the hot water. With gloves over their manicured hands, they scrub my already sensitive skin. Using scrubbing brushes, they remove any dirt or wax that didn't come off during the makeover.

Afterwards, they hand me a couple of towels and brand-new, white boxer shorts. _Finally, _I sigh mentally_._ When I've dried off and put the boxer shorts on, the team flocks around me again and drags me back in the makeover room. Bestia then turns me to face the mirrors.

I look dreadful. Arminius modelled my hair into a fohawk. The sides seem glued to my skull while the middle looks like a dorsal fin with spiky ends. It's the weirdest hairdo I've ever seen, and since I'm in the Capitol, that says a lot.

The gel he used is so strong that my hair doesn't lose shape, even when I shake my head like crazy. As I'm shaking my head, a woman barges in the room with a white suit draped over her right arm. I can see her hideous face in the mirror.

Her features are altered to look like a cat. For starters, she has long, white whiskers under a flat nose. Her cheeks have been raised, so her mouth and nose form more of a snout, like that of a tiger. She looks even more like a tiger with the striped orange and black tattoos all over her face. Her fiery brown hair encompasses her entire face like lion's manes.

I turn around to face this monstrosity and I notice that she's also wearing contact lenses. Their narrow irises and the absence of white around the eyes make her look even more like a cat.

"Hello! I'm Catilina Clark," _Cat-ilina, get it?_ "You are so privileged to have me as your stylist."

_I wouldn't call it privileged..._

"Now, let me have a good look at you," she steps closer and circles me, "Mmm, you're not as handsome or muscular as last year's tribute boy."

_Last year's tribute boy? Ian!_ I nearly gasp. Of course, she was Ian's stylist last year too. She knew him in his last few days. I want to grab her and shake her like a rag doll, question her about Ian and his time in the Capitol, but I refrain from it.

Would this woman really remember anything about him, other than his looks? I doubt it. She probably never even talked to him, like in an actual conversation. He was just another District 6 tribute in just another Hunger Games...but not to me!

"Oh well, I guess you'll do," she holds out the white suit to me, "Behold the ingenious costume Atlas Ivory and I designed for you and the other one."

"Holly. Her name is Holly," I remind her.

"Whatever! She could have been named 'Banana' and I wouldn't care," she hands me the suit. "Go on then, put it on!"

I take the suit and go back in the bathroom. After fondling with the buttons and tight fabric, I manage to put it on. When I enter the makeover room again and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrors, I realise Catilina and her colleague didn't design much at all.

I'm dressed in the typical uniform of a hovercraft pilot. The tight, leather suit with its four golden buttons has a wing logo near the left shoulder and a giant six on the back. Its sticky, white fabric covers my entire body from the neck down.

"Marvellous!" Eleonor and Arminius applaud enthusiastically. Bestia isn't that impressed, though, but applauds nonetheless, probably because she has to. Catilina, on the other hand, remains cynical.

"This _would_ have looked better on the boy from last year," she sighs as she smoothes out the creases of my uniform. I agree with her. Ian would have looked impeccable in this, whereas my slender body hardly fills it out.

* * *

A few minutes later, Catilina leads me downstairs to the chariot room, where all the chariots with their horses are ready to go, but not all the tributes are there yet to mount them. I see our chariot right in the middle.

This year they made it look like a miniature hovercraft and I'm quite impressed they pulled this off. Perhaps I should give them some more credit? The two silver-haired white horses that will pull our chariot are quietly waiting.

Then I make out Holly's small figure and walk up to her. She's already standing near the hovercraft chariot and is wearing the same uniform I am, but her hair is completely different than before. Her prep team made a bow out of her own hair and then curled the rest of it. _And I thought I looked ridiculous._

When she spots me, she immediately bursts out laughing. _Okay, I do look ridiculous._ Embarrassed, I nod at her hair and retort:

"Look who's laughing!"

"At least my hair doesn't look like a porcupine," she says between laughs. I scowl at her.

"So, how did your prep team torture you?" I ask.

"Wax, tweezers, hot irons, and _way_ too much hairspray. You?"

"Pedo bear, wax, tweezers, scrub down, and this god-awful construction of gel. I see you were forced to wear this uniform too."

"Sadly, yes. But I guess it could be worse."

Nothing but the truth there. I've seen some real abominations during the Tribute Parade. Only last year, Ian and the girl tribute had to wear a costume that made them look like trains. Ridiculous!

"Yes, at least we're not covered in coal dust like those tributes from District 12 a few years back," I bring into perspective. That was a terrible year. The tributes from 12 had worn miner's suits that didn't look like they were very insulating. On top of that, their stylists had covered their entire bodies with coal dust. The poor things never stood a chance in the arena.

"Yeah, that was bad. I liked District 2's outfit from last year." Their outfit had been solid gold and had shone like a candlelight in the darkness. However, just like the tributes from 12, they died.

"Yes, it didn't help them much in the arena, though. It all seems so happy and honourable here, but in there...where you're put up against the others...it's like all hell broke loose."

"All hell broke loose? When we get in that arena, it will be a complete massacre! I almost think it will be worse than hell. But hopefully one of us from team 6 will be able to get out alive."

_One of us._ Yes, there can only be one Victor, and this year it will be me. Or, so I hope.

"Yes, hopefully one of us will slaughter everyone else. And if not, we'll see each other in heaven. Or hell, whatever you prefer."

Then Holly surprises me by laughing:

"I'm going to go with heaven on this one. Though, I am okay with both of them."

Now I laugh too, perhaps one of the last laughs in my life. "Anything over this purgatory with its fluorescent citizens!"

"Yeah, this place is a bit too girly for me as well. I'm not into the big hair and large skirts either."

Suddenly the large doors of the room open, signalling that the tributes have to mount their chariot. The Tribute Parade is about to begin. It may very well define the rest of the Games.

"It appears we're not done with the big hair and large skirts just yet," I hold out my hand to Holly, "Shall we?"

She takes my hand and says in her best Capitol accent:

"We shall."

Her imitation of the high-pitched accent is so spot on I shake my head laughing as we mount the hovercraft chariot. _And off we go..._


	6. Shaky Alliances

****A.N.: On the final page of this chapter, I used a quote twice from ******_**Prelude to Dune: House Harkonnen**_****** (HERBERT, B., ANDERSON, K., ******_**Voorspel tot Duin: Huis Harkonnen**_******. J. M. Meulenhoff, Amsterdam, 2000, 583 blz.). I would also like to thank PotterOwl and EnvyinEloquence for helping me with this chapter, as well as YellowValia for inspiring a remarkable character. Enjoy reading :)****

_Bonk, bonk, bonk!_

"What?" I mutter, half awake, half asleep.

_Bonk, bonk, bonk!_

I open my eyes. I'm surrounded by fluffy, white pillows and all my body touches is pure softness.

_Bonk, bonk, bonk!_

I raise my head from the pillows and gaze into space. I'm in a bed. In a room. With shiny, polished walls and floors. And huge windows, still dark from thick curtains. _Where am I?_ I think groggily.

_Bonk, bonk, bonk!_

"Finn! Open the door or I'll get an axe from District 7 and chop my way into your room!" Anthony Kingston yells in his deep bass voice. _Oh right, I'm in the Hunger Games. Joy!_

Slowly, my memory returns and I can exactly pinpoint where I am: I'm in the Training Center! I lie on my back and, once again, Anthony hammers on the door of my room with his big gorilla fists.

_Bonk, bonk, bonk!_

"Have it your way!" he says grimly from the other side of the door. I hear some steps, a door opening and then someone gasping. Next thing I know, I hear Anthony's sister, the other mentor:

"What do you think you're doing? Is it so difficult for you to use a key?"

A glorious minute of silence passes. _I really should get up, though. _After that minute passes, I hear a key being put into the lock of my door and then turned. The door flings open and an angry Anthony stampedes in. Behind him I can see his sister closing the door to Holly's room.

"I assume the key worked better than what you had planned," I smirk.

"You think sleeping in will win you the Hunger Games, boy?" he spits the last word.

"No," I answer sincerely, "but these pillows have accepted me as one of their own. I'm afraid that if I leave now, I might lose their trust."

Anthony isn't pleased at all with my remark. He clenches his jaw tight, his face turns all red and his gaze hardens. Instead of a reply, he yanks the bed sheets away, digs for my waist between the pillows and slides his left arm under me. Before I can react, he lifts me in the air and throws me over his shoulder. Then he turns around and charges for the bathroom across from my bed.

Normally, I would appreciate a strong man asserting his male dominance over me, but since this was Anthony Kingston, I squirmed on his shoulder like a devil in a font of holy-water. But since this was Anthony Kingston, whose arms are twice as big as my calves, I may as well have been pushing against a concrete wall. By the time he has reached the bathroom, I've given up.

In this bathroom, which is even more luxurious than the one on the train, he opens the shower cabin and pushes the cold water button. Well, 'pushes'…he nearly punches it through the shower tiles. When the water starts to flow, he swings me off his shoulder and launches me – pyjamas and all – in the shower.

The icy cold water tightens my muscles up instantly and my first instinct is to smash Anthony's Adam's apple. But I don't. I must admit that we started off on the wrong foot. I immediately forced my own strategy on him in the train and now I refused to get up when he asked me to. Instead of listening to my mentor, who is after all going to keep me alive during the Games, I was stubborn and disobedient. _That has to stop!_

"If you believe your witty comebacks and superior attitude are going to get you out of that arena alive, you're the biggest idiot in the entire Capitol," Anthony growls. "From now on, you'll do exactly as I say and when I say it. Understood?"

I consider this for a brief moment. I can't promise anything on the witticisms, but he's right about the rest. I have no choice but to listen to him. After all, he did win a Hunger Games over 15 years ago.

"Fine", I say, cold water trickling down my face. "I'll do as you say, but I won't be able to avoid witty remarks. That's just how I react to the world."

This relieves him and he relaxes. His jaw loosens, his face returns to its regular complexion and his gaze softens. He even manages to smile, for a second.

"Fair enough," he nods. "Get yourself ready and we'll discuss training."

He takes one final look at me and leaves the bathroom. I then switch the cold water button to lukewarm and take my soaking wet pyjamas off. I continue to wash, and dry off when I'm finished.

Afterwards, I walk to the cupboard under the bathroom sink and take out a black training suit. An Avox put it there on orders of Catilina Clark, my stylist. Its short sleeves are lined with black, white and red patches and have a big six on them. However, the suit isn't as impressive as the one I wore yesterday during the Tribute Parade.

* * *

_When the two white horses pulled our chariot out of the chariot room, the sun had already started to set. Still, it was bright enough for the Capitol people to admire our eccentric miniature hovercraft chariot. As soon as they saw us gliding towards them, they began to cheer._

_Usually, District 6 doesn't have a remarkable chariot. Since our district provides transportation, the chariot in itself was mostly symbolic enough. Yet this year it was different. Holly and I were dazzling in our pilot suits, while the hovercraft chariot kept amazing the Capitol citizens. With every feet we glided past them, a new wave of cheers, cries and awes erupted. The camera crews couldn't get enough of us either._

_Holly waved at the people and smiled, while I found it more difficult to grab their attention. Mostly because, when our miniature hovercraft left the chariot room, I was overwhelmed by the humongous crowd of people lining the streets. Everywhere I looked I saw bright, aggressive colours fighting for a way to register on my observant mind._

_My face was radiating anxiousness. Nobody would have noticed if I wasn't being broadcast over Panem. I could see myself in the multitude of screens put up in and around the Capitol. _Where was the confident boy from District 6 now? _Although they reflected my nervousness, those screens also gave me instant feedback when altering my expression. So, instead of fearfulness, I gazed right into the cameras and gave them my cocky grin, just as I had done at the train station_.

_The people in the Capitol noticed and cheered in recognition of the self-assured tribute they had seen earlier. To top that, I threw my head back laughing as if my anxious face had only been an act to mislead them. It didn't miss its effect! The crowd roared with cries of satisfaction and admiration._

_By nightfall, our horses stopped behind District 5's chariot at a massively tall skyscraper, almost entirely covered in glass. It was the Training Center. Before it, the road curved into a semi-circle. When District 12's chariot finally arrived, all noise was subdued. The national anthem, which had been playing during the entire Parade, sounded one last time. It announced the speech of the Cult's mortal enemy: President Snow._

* * *

I shake my head to erase that memory. President Snow is technically my enemy, since I'm supposed to start a rebellion by winning the Hunger Games. I highly doubt that he would appreciate that.

I put on the training suit along with a pair of combat boots and go back into my room. Anthony's sitting on my bed fiddling with stray pieces of fluff. However, I first make a beeline for a large mahogany wardrobe near the windows.

In there, I find my black woollen cloak. Catilina had been so kind to return it to me after the chariot ride. She said she had it washed because it reeked of sweat and grime. I was eternally grateful to her; I don't know what I would have done without it.

I neatly drape my cloak over my shoulders and tie the knot to secure it to me. Nicely covered by my beloved cloak, I walk over to Anthony, who straightens up when I near him.

"First of all, are you still going to take my advice?" he raises an eye-brow.

"Are you going to throw me back under a cold shower if I don't?" I retort.

"Don't tempt me," he chuckles. "No, I wanted you to realise that I'm not the enemy here. I want to help you. I'm just trying to keep you alive during the Games and if you don't listen to me, that's not going to happen."

"I understand," I nod.

"Good. Secondly, training. Today you'll go downstairs to learn survival skills at training stations. You can visit any station you like, but I want you to at least go to the edible plants and insects, knotting, snares and basic survival stations. They may seem useless now, but they can mean the difference between two days and two weeks in the arena. You'll thank me when you've managed to survive in there at least three days."

It aren't so much the stations themselves, but the ridiculous importance of them that baffles me. _Can something as simple as knotting really make such a significant difference?_ Although, when I remember previous Games, I realise he's right...again.

Three years ago, a girl from 9 managed to catch a backpack with supplies at the Cornucopia. Unfortunately, her luck ended there. On the first day, her backpack strap tore. The girl was unable to knot the strap back together, so she had to swing her backpack over one shoulder. However, it kept sliding off and getting caught on things, so she had to constantly swing it back over her shoulder.

On the third day, it got caught on yet another branch after she had thrown it over her shoulder for the thousandth time. (By then, the commentators had nicknamed her "Lopsided Backpack".) While the girl from 9 was tugging at it, the girl from 4 sneaked up behind her and slit her throat with a fishing knife. If the girl from District 9 had paid attention at the knotting station, she might not have been killed. I realise this in a matter of seconds.

"Okay. Edible plants and insects, knotting, snares and basic survival," I nod after I mention each station. "Anything else?"

"Yes," Anthony says, "don't show off skills you already posses. If you do, you could make yourself a target for the other tributes. Keep them secret until your private session with the Gamemakers. Then you can blow them away however you please."

"Or not at all. Appear weak because of low scores, but surprise them all in the arena," I smirk.

He sniggers. "I like the way you think. You were right when you said I didn't have to help you with strategies."

"Thanks," I smile. It actually feels nice cooperating with him and I'll gladly take a compliment.

"Then another thing: watch the others closely! Find out about their weaknesses. Even something as small as a soar tooth could help."

I nod in response. I was already planning to do that. My mother didn't teach me acute observation for nothing! Anthony then claps his hands, stands up and pats me on the back.

"Come on, boy, let's eat breakfast. You'll need some extra pounds to spare when you enter that arena," he says as he leads me out of my room.

* * *

After breakfast, Holly and I take the lift down to the training area beneath the Training Center. Holly's also wearing the training suit that Catilina picked for me.

"What advice did your mentor give you about training?" I ask her.

"For when I am inside the arena, she talked a lot about finding food and water in the arena, and about how to find edible food. Apparently, a lot of people die of starvation, hunger, and the cold," Holly says. "For actual training, she told me to train a lot on weaponry of all kinds, and to observe what other tributes can do, even the weaker appealing ones. What did you learn about?"

"Respect and humility," I mutter. "I mean, Anthony wants me to learn about basic survival skills, like edible plants and insects and knotting. He also told me to lay low and watch the others closely. Find out about weaknesses and such."

"Learning weaknesses as well as strengths could really help. Are you going to do some actual training too, or just observe people?"

"Well, he ordered me to listen to him, so I think I'll just take Anthony's advice and visit the stations he wanted me to. I can observe people while I do so anyway."

"I'll probably just figure out how to use some type of weapon just like Julia told me," _ah, so that's the name of Anthony's sister_, "What did Anthony tell you about the Cornucopia?"

"Nothing much. He just told me to be pretty darn fast when I'm there."

Suddenly, the lift doors slide open and there we are in the training area.

"Here we are. I guess I'll see you later," Holly says.

We step onto the smooth floor and walk to the centre of the large room. All around us, stations labelled according to their skills are manned by an instructor. I catch a glimpse of the edible plants and insects station. That's where I'll head first.

As we reach the centre of the room, a boy runs into a rack of spears and knocks it over. I couldn't tell from which district he was, but it's safe to say he won't survive long in the arena. The other tributes are surrounding who I suppose is the head instructor.

The head instructor explains that we'll have to visit the stations around us. After we've learnt from a station, we have to continue to another. Also, only two tributes can visit a station at a time. The instructor then stresses that fighting between tributes is strictly forbidden during training. The introduction continues with a list of all the stations and "a happy Hunger Games", followed by a short reminder of the no-fighting rule. Then the tributes scatter throughout the room.

I want to head for the edible plants and insects station, but see that the boy from 5 and the girl from 11 have claimed it already. In search for an alternative, I make a 360° turn on the ball of my left foot and inspect the other stations. Knotting and basic survival are taken too, but at the far end of the room, the snares station is completely deserted. I silently stride towards it.

The snares instructor is very pleased when he sees me. He also doesn't beat around the bush. Right from the start, he has me set up a simple snare and gradually teaches me more difficult ones. He even compliments me on my precision work.

I must confess that I've set up snares before. Whenever Ian got off his mechanic duties and my mother let me off the hook, Ian and I would go out in the woods and hunt. Granted, we made out more than we hunted, but he did teach me some basic snares.

When I look up from a complicated snare, I see my instructor has another apprentice: the boy from 10. I remember he had an odd name because the commentators couldn't pronounce it properly. I think it was Propane Pompous, or something. He intrigues me. Although he's ridiculously handsome with his rock-hard eightpack and pearl white teeth, he's remarkably quiet. Therefore, I take a chance and address him:

"Hello! You're from District 10, right? The boy with the really weird name?"

"Yes, I'm Puropane Pumpomtuous," he smirks. _And by the Great Mother, what a smirk!_ I would have been even more dazzled if I wasn't used to Ian's spellbinding crooked smile. "But my friends call me Puro," _I bet they do_, "Your name was Finn, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Finn Hartman," I secure a wire in my snare and then continue, "So, Puro, are those friends of yours your motivation to win these Games?"

He scoffs. "Not at all. There isn't much for me to come home to if I win," then he looks at me as if he's about to share the meaning of life, "I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but I'm related to the great Carly Rae Jepsen."

Since I don't respond, he continues:

"You know, the amazing singer who scored a monster hit with _Call Me Maybe_ in the old days. But", he puts his finger on his lips, "this has to stay a secret!"

"Sure, and I'm descendant of werewolves," I scoff. _Thank the Great Mother that he's good-looking!_ It won't save him in the arena, though.

Realising he won't tell me anything helpful, I shut up and focus on my snares. Occasionally, I look up and observe Puro. He mostly cusses under his breath while struggling with the instructor's advice. Apparently, he isn't as precise as I am. When the snares instructor has taught me everything he has to offer, I move on to knotting. (The edible plants and insects station was occupied once again.) It's surprisingly more difficult than snares. It takes up all my time until lunch.

* * *

At lunchtime, we're led into a roomy cafeteria with several long dining tables. After the tributes have filled their trays with food and drinks, most of them huddle together with their district partner. Even the Careers, the tributes from 1, 2 and 4, share their meal with only their district partner. Following their example, I sit across from Holly on one of the long tables.

"Hey Finn," she greets me. "How has training been going?"

"Hi Holly. Splendid really. The snares instructor was incredibly helpful and he taught me some cool traps. Knotting was more difficult, though. How was your training?"

"Let's just say, if I try to use a bow in the arena, take it from my hands and snap it," she pauses a minute before continuing, "The swords and daggers were a bit easier to use, though."

"Ugh, don't get me started on bows! My", I pause before I blab out _boyfriend_, "friend was a natural at them, but I could barely hit an oak. I prefer daggers, too."

Holly laughs slightly. "At least you know you aren't the only person who can't hit to save their life."

"Long-range weapons aren't everything. In hand-to-hand combat, bows are useless, except for hitting someone in the face or stabbing them with an arrow," I point out.

"That's very true. If a person were to come up behind you for instance, a bow would be useless. Getting an arrow even would be hard."

"Indeed. The best possible weapons are your mind and body. When push comes to shove, those are the only things you can truly rely on."

"Mind and body are the best possible weapons if someone doesn't have a knife to your throat or an arrow aimed at your chest," she says before taking another bite of food.

I laugh. Clearly, Holly has never come in contact with a Cult member before.

"Such little faith in your own abilities. When that arrow comes flying towards you, are you going to just stand there and wait to die, or are you going to think of a way to dodge it? I know which option I'd choose," I wink.

"Did you see the Careers? Their weaponry skills were really good. If I tried to dodge an arrow, they would shoot me with another."

"Perhaps, but while they're reloading, you can get closer or hide. Never stay a target and strike whenever you have the chance," I repeat one of my mother's lessons.

"You seem to know what to do in just about any situation."

"Let's just say that strategies are what I do best."

"Well then, you're in luck. When it comes to the Games, you're going to need lots of strategy."

_You could almost say I was born for the Hunger Games._ I look down at my plate and play with a piece of chicken.

"Yes, lucky me," I mutter.

"So, did you make any friends?" Holly changes the subject. "Well, talk to anyone at least? I tried talking to the male from District 9, Trey, but he seemed really depressed and annoyed by my presence, so I walked away."

"Yes, I talked to the boy from 10, Puro. He was...interesting, but not very good with snares."

She laughs a little. "I guess neither of them would make good allies," she pauses for a moment, "Speaking of allies, I was wondering if we were going to partner up and work together, or if you were going off with someone else or on your own. It makes sense to stick together though, that way we both get sponsor items instead of just one of us getting them."

_I didn't see that coming!_ I stare at her with the most stoic look I can manage.

"I was planning to go by myself," I pause. _Would it be bad if I teamed up with Holly?_ Sure, an alliance could be useful in the beginning of the Games, but what if we're the only ones left? Would she kill me? I doubt it, but could I kill her now that I know her? I make up my mind and smile.

"However, it would be beneficial for the both of us to stick together. Our sponsors could pitch in together to keep us alive."

"Good, good. Now that that's settled I can tell Julia that we're working together," she says.

"Fine. I'll tell Anthony, too," _he'll have a blast_, "Now, I'll just finish this plate and get going on training again before my food gets cold."

"I suppose you're right. The more training, the better."

* * *

After lunch, I continue training along with the other tributes. This time I immediately claim the edible plants and insects station. The instructor is very clear, but not as strict as the snares instructor. He points out edible plants, which parts are indeed edible, where they can be found, whether they need to be cooked, …

This goes on for a little while until the girl from District 12 joins me at the station. She has platinum blond hair, incredulously pale skin and almond-shaped, purple eyes. Her hair is down and curled, but I have a feeling she doesn't care much about her looks at all. Whether she looks spotless or covered in coal dust, she seems not to care about anything or anyone. After all, she punched her escort in the face at the Reaping.

As the instructor concerns himself with the girl from 12, I taste some of the plants, roots, nuts and insects. They aren't the most flavourful food, but at least they're not poisonous like some of the plants and insects I recognise on the station's counter. I pick up a few wet, sticky pieces of seaweed and have a little bite. The seaweed is tantalisingly salty.

Just as I'm about to nibble on it again, I catch a glimpse of a python's head crawling between the plants. It startles me and because of that involuntary reflex, I throw the seaweed away causing it to land on the girl from 12's clothes. A blue-ish green stain grows on her loose, white blouse where I threw the edible seaweed.

"What the hell!" she says completely disgusted and pissed. Her cheeks redden the angrier she gets. I pick the pieces of seaweed off of her and sheepishly say:

"Oeps! I didn't see that snake coming."

"My shirt is ruined," she growls. _Maybe she does care a little about her looks._ "You'll never make it in the Games if you can't even handle a snake minding its own business!"

"You'll never make it in the Games if you can't even handle a dirty shirt," I say emotionlessly as I continue to pick the seaweed off of her shirt. "Besides, I didn't expect a snake on training. What is that thing doing here anyway?"

She exposes a daring laugh. "At that point, I could handle it; I'd just go topless." As her python crawls back up onto her shoulder, she stifles an additional chuckle:

"That thing has a name. It's Ramir, and I've found you can't put your trust in humans."

"And? Do you want me to pat its head or something? It's still a snake," I scowl. "Topless? Then you could freeze and die of cold. How easy are you trying to make these Games?" I smirk.

"There's no guarantee that the terrain will be cold at all. For all we know, it could be incredibly humid. And I didn't say you had to be best buds, but you don't have to jump like a little girl at the sight of him," she laughs. "By the way, name's Vexare, but you can call me Vex if you like."

In a friendly gesture, Vex sticks out her hand. I shake it and smile, yet remain cautious.

"I'm Finn. By the way, I didn't jump up like a little girl. This wasn't my first encounter with a snake," I flash the silver gom jabbar, coiling around my left index finger.

"And yet Ramir startled you," she grins. "My shirt's also still ruined."

"Oh please! Your stylist probably has five outfits laid out already to replace that one."

She laughs. "Come on, let's sit down. I didn't feel like training anyway," she says as she sits down on the floor. I join her and we chat for just another couple of minutes, taking turns at cracking jokes about the Capitol. We're having quite a bit of fun when all of a sudden my Cult training kicks in.

_Love weakens. It is dangerous, because it clouds reason and distracts us from our duties…_ I hear my mother and my Cult tutors stress inside my head. _Love? I don't love Vexare; she's fun, but I'm still gay._

_It is a deformity, a disgrace, an unforgivable violation…_ their mixed voices continue in my mind. I place my hands over my ears to block out my training.

"Are you alright, Finn?" Vexare asks me. She looks worried, which furthers my mother's and my tutors' voices.

_We cannot love!_ they bellow as I stand up and run for the lift.

_Love weakens. It is dangerous, because it clouds reason and distracts us from our duties…_, they repeat as I press the lift button and enter the cabin. _It is a deformity, a disgrace, an unforgivable violation. We cannot love!_

I scream to stop the voices, but nothing helps. My thoughts fall prey to my Cult conditioning as the lift glides upward. _Love weakens…__We cannot love!_


	7. Out and Proud

**A.N.: This chapter contains coarse language and shameless self-promotion.**

On the evening before the big interview with Jessica Maldiva, the Capitol's new bumbling interviewer, I'm in my room doing breathing exercises. I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed with my hands on my knees, my eyes are closed and my focus rests entirely on my breathing, until I'm disturbed by loud voices in the apartment's main room, where the TV is. I try to ignore them, but I keep hearing racket, so I decide to head out to see what the fuss is all about.

In the main room, I see our entire company – mentors, prep teams, stylists and Holly – gathered around the TV. The images shown are last year's Hunger Games with commentaries from Jessica Maldiva, Caesar Flickerman's replacement, and Claudius Templesmith, the Hunger Games host.

Suddenly, Templesmith announces the death of Ian Collins, last year's tribute boy of District 6. I petrify.

Ian stumbles into a clearing with a bow and sheath ready. Maldiva says Ian had a good run in those Games using his bow to fend off attackers and having hunting experience. However, he was no match for the tribute boy from 8, that year's Cult tribute, which only I and, of course, the entire Cult know.

I know what's about to come and there's no chance in hell I'm going to rewatch it. Mindlessly, I shout:

"Turn it off!"

Everyone turns around and stares at me in surprise, yet no one makes an effort to do something. I repeat:

"Turn it off! Turn the TV off, now!"

I see the boy from 8 dodge Ian's arrows and inch forward like a snake ready to attack. Meanwhile, everyone has an opinion on my rude behaviour.

"Finn, cut it out!" Anthony barks.

"Boy, your manners..." Leshana says in an appalled tone before shoving a red velvet cupcake with pink frosting in her mouth.

"Bunch of ravaging peasants, the lot of them," Catilina mutters as if she were commentating on the weather.

"Finn, chill!" Holly tries to calm me.

"Turn the goddamn fucking TV off!" I scream, not caring about my vocal cords and tomorrow's interview with Jessica Maldiva. _It's only a matter of seconds before..._

Then I see the Cult's tribute boy knee Ian in the gut and jab him in his left eye with his right index and middle fingers. He yanks Ian's eye out, blood squirting violently out his eye socket.

"No..." I mutter, my mind zoning in and out. _No, not again._

Ian screams and stumbles backwards, but the boy from District 8 knifes him under his jaw. He chokes and spits blood before he collapses dead against a tree.

"Ian," I whimper, barely audible. Tears sting in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. Now everyone is flabbergasted and staring at me as if I just turned into a toad. Finally, Bestia turns the TV off.

"I'll be in my room," my voice cracks and I dart for my bedroom door.

I lay on my bed in the fetal position, sobbing, when Julia Kingston, Anthony's sister, enters my room. Silently, she sits on the other end of the bed.

"He meant a lot to you, didn't he?" she touches my shoulder comfortingly.

"You...can't even...begin...to imagine," I stutter between sobs.

"My older brother went into the Hunger Games. I think I get the picture," she snaps, but she calms down. "Sorry, childhood traumas."

"Join the club," I sniff.

"You know, last year, Ian had a similar problem."

I snap upright and look her straight in the eyes:

"He did?"

"Sort of. He was really homesick, scared to death of course. He didn't cry like you, but whenever he talked about his special someone back home...I could tell it wasn't just puppy love."

"He talked about _me_?" I blab out unthinkingly.

"No...but at least now I know how the matter stands," she chuckles. _Great, I just told the other mentor I'm gay. Anthony will go bonkers!_

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me," she reassures me, "although you didn't leave much to the imagination back there. I'll talk to Anthony and tell him to back off. You rest now. It's an important day tomorrow."

She pats me on the back and stands up. When she opens the door, Holly is eavesdropping near the keyhole.

"Heard anything juicy?" Julia embarrasses her.

"No, I just...", she stands up and whispers to Julia, "I wanted to know if he's fine and..."

"It was an emotional evening for him. He needs to rest, but I guess you can stay for a minute or so."

Holly nods and enters as Julia leaves. She carefully comes to the bed and I swing out. I'm standing not more than a feet away from her.

"Finn, are you alright?" Holly asks cautiously.

"No. I'm sorry, Holly. I can't do this right now..."

"I understand, but..."

"Holly," I pause, "thanks for being my friend, even though we may have to kill each other. But I'm begging you, please, let me be."

"Old wounds, eh?" she smiles in a friendly way. "Fine, but if you need me, I'm only a shouting tirade away," she jokes.

"Thank you," I whisper. I take a risk and come closer to her. Before she realises it, I hug her and then let go.

"Okay, that was awkward," she mutters. "For what it's worth, I don't care if you're gay, bi or into clouds, but seeing as we're going to partner up in the arena, you can tell me anything."

"I know, just not right now. Maybe tomorrow, or after the interviews."

I climb back into bed and Holly leaves me be. I fall straight to sleep, only to be tormented by nightmares replaying Ian's death.

* * *

The following day, I wake up with a terrible morning mood giving anyone in a 2 feet radius a dead stare of doom. Thankfully, everyone does their best to avoid me afraid that I might launch into another shouting tirade. Yet all good things must come to an end, because Anthony wants to advise me about today's interview.

He tells me to play along with Jessica Maldiva because she's just as enthusiastic about the interviews as I am. Since it's her first year, she wants all tributes to cooperate and her management specifically asked Anthony to keep a tight leash on me. Apparently, Jessica fears that I may snap at her to prove my cocky tribute act.

After Anthony urges me to at least act friendly and smile, I'm handed over to Catilina, my stylist, and my prep team. However, only Arminius and Eleonor are present; Bestia is absent for yet unspecified reasons. If I thought this would bother the others, I was sorely mistaken. Arminius rinses my hair while Eleonor exfoliates my skin. Catilina, the proper leader that she is, delegates and observes me from afar.

"Good heavens, you're a complete mess!" she complains. "Unlike last year's boy, you don't have a natural ruggedness." She's talking about Ian again.

"Did you know him?" I ask cautiously.

"Of course I did, dear. I've been District 6's stylist for ages!"

"No, I mean, did you talk to him, personally? You know, reassured him the Games aren't as bad as they seem, that sort of stuff."

"Not at all. I used to, though, in my early years that is. I thought I could make them feel more at home by chatting with them," she reminisces, but then her voice turns stone cold, "Of course, seeing them die in every imaginable way messed with my mind. It's absolutely gut-wrenching to watch someone delightful die just as you've got to know them." _Wow, Catilina actually cared!_

"Also, it spoils the fun of the Games," she adds playfully. _Or maybe she's as shallow as I imagined._

Arminius finishes rinsing my hair and then does something I wouldn't even allow Mother to: he dyes my hair! I immediately object, but Catilina assures me that it's only temporary since the dye will wash right off after the interview. I get the feeling she anticipated my remark. _That sly old cat is getting to know me._

Meanwhile, Eleonor is applying makeup. She brushes my face with some sort of white powder and puts on eyeliner to make my eyes pop. _If she uses any more makeup, my eyes will pop out. _I strangely become aware of a burning sensation on my face and ask Catilina about the powder, but she repeats that it's only temporary and will come right off.

When my makeup is done and my dyed hair needs drying, Catilina makes me put on my costume for the interview. It's a tight-fitting black jumpsuit, so at least I'll be wearing something comfortingly black. Unfortunately, I also need to put on knee-high, golden leather boots. After I've put the jumpsuit and boots on, Arminius removes the aluminum foil covering my dyed hair.

I walk over to a standing mirror and look at my reflection. I hardly recognise the boy that's staring back at me! All round my scalp, the tips of my hair are dyed silver, but the dye makes it look as if my hair is glowing. It isn't the only thing glowing: my face is radiating too. The white powder has made my copper skin a shade lighter and brought out my natural gleam.

I bet Holly would say I look frosty, but personally I think I look like an alien. I presume Catilina wanted to advance from hovercrafts to spacecrafts. I turn around searching for her feline face, but I only find Arminius and Eleonor.

"Where's Catilina?" I ask.

"She went to fetch a surprise for you," Bestia answers. Out of the blue, she's standing at my door. She's also holding a small object in her hands.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Arminius scoffs. "Where have you been?"

"I went to get my own little surprise for Finn," she says as she hands me the object. It's a tiny yet thick book with a rough, worn-out leather cover. On first sight, the cover seems to be blank, but as I finger it, I can make out the words 'Azhar Book'. I gasp and nearly stumble over my own feet.

The Azhar Book is the Cult's main study material containing all our basic axioms and guidelines. It dates back to the Cult's early years at the time of the French Revolution when we were better known as the Sisterhood of the Bene Gesserit. Cult members today can only dream of the skills the Bene Gesserit possessed, because a lot of knowledge was lost before the foundation of Panem.

"What could he possibly do with a ragged book?" Eleonor remarks. I ignore her and quickly finger the pages too. I feel an ever so slight tear in one of them, open the Azhar Book and read the very first line on the page.

"We live to serve," I read. This simple creed brings about a massive change in my thoughts. For too long I've been struggling with my emotions and the Cult's strict rules, but no more! There's no reason why my feelings and my Cult background have to collide. The Cult forbids emotions, but instead of hiding them, we should learn to channel them into our work.

This realisation reveals a new train of thought, a new path to take, a new plan to execute. I won't become a hero for the districts to flock behind. No, I'll unite them with a force greater than all of us: religion. It's the most powerful weapon in the Cult's box of tricks; I just hope it won't come back to bite me.

"Thank you, Bestia," I say with a straight emotionless face. "I really appreciate this gift."

Just then, Catilina walks in carrying a brand-new cloak. It's folded over her arms as she hands it to me.

"I have something new for you. Since your cloak is your signature accessory, I designed a new one for the interview with Jessica Maldiva. Here, take it," she insists.

"Do I have a choice?" I ask.

She laughs. "Don't be ridiculous! Of course you don't."

I take the cloak and open it to inspect it. It's much heavier than my own, but the material on the inside is mesmerizing. Its interior is an imprint of a night sky, littered with twinkling stars. It waxes and wanes; it's as if I'm looking in a mirror made of mercury.

I put it on carefully covering my body in its fabric. I look at myself in the mirror again and now I'm no alien. I'm an enigma, a star glowing amidst millions of others. Unknowingly, Catilina has designed the perfect outfit for my new strategy.

"You look absolutely astonishing!" she cheers. "Now for the interview, keep your costume hidden under your cloak and when you think the time is right, reveal my masterpiece to Panem."

I just nod and Catilina leads me to the lift to go downstairs for the interview. My prep team joins us as we descend. Once at ground level, we go backstage. In front of the Training Center, a huge stage was constructed with screens on every side of it and seats in front. Two comfortable looking chairs take centre stage. In a few hours, Jessica Maldiva and I will have our interview in them.

Backstage, Anthony's waiting for me. He's standing there with his legs spread out and his arms folded like an army commander eyeing his troops. Only my commander is grinning from ear to ear: he has spotted my new look.

"Laugh and I'll kick you where it hurts," I warn him when I reach him.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare to laugh! I'm just admiring Catilina's artwork," he tries to hold in his laugh. He leads me further backstage while Catilina and my prep team go to find their seats in front of the stage.

* * *

An hour later, an audience has gathered in front of the stage and the national anthem starts to play. The music booms out of the speakers to make sure the entire Capitol knows what time it is. The Capitol's seal appears on every screen and Jessica Maldiva struts on stage. The audience applauds, more out of courtesy than fondness, because Jessica hasn't proven her worth yet.

She has bright-red hair and green eyes. She's young, tall and slim, just the way the Capitol likes its interviewers. She's smiling broadly to the cameras and waving wildly, clearly enjoying the attention. However, I can still notice her obvious fake enthusiasm. As Hunger Games interviewer, she is set for life, but she realises Caesar Flickerman's shoes are tough to fill.

Officially, Caesar Flickerman retired, but many say he quit because he couldn't mentally handle the Games anymore. It's as Catilina said: connecting with someone personally and then seeing him or her die puts a heavy strain on your sanity.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Jessica bellows. "And may the odds be ever in your favor! Tonight we celebrate a new year of the Hunger Games. Sadly, our beloved friend and interviewer Caesar Flickerman will no longer entertain us. To honour him, our national treasure, we have compiled a video with his most memorable moments."

The screens display Flickerman's tanned and botoxed face as he was last year and then show short highlights from all his interviews, including a shot of every Victor he encountered. After the video, the audience is in tears and applauding madly. They don't have to fake their enthusiasm now.

Jessica continues by announcing that a new tribute will replace one that died after eating peanuts, to which the tribute was allergic. She adds that the deceased tribute's identity or that of the replacement won't be made public until the tributes reach the arena. _As if you couldn't just tell which district is missing a tribute._

Because of this unfortunate event, the private sessions were cancelled and the Gamemakers decided to rate the remaining tributes on their general training. Consequently, everyone has now received a score between two and an occasional eight. I got a three, which fit the 'seem harmless'-tactic that Anthony and I had discussed.

Jessica then introduces Zage Carron, District 1's male tribute. The boy promptly walks on stage and he and Jessica sit down in the two chairs to have their interview.

* * *

By the time I'm called onto stage, night has fallen over the Capitol, although the excessive street lighting could fool you otherwise. Although Jessica Maldiva's halfway through the interviews, she announces me more lengthily than the other tributes:

"And now, one of your favourites for this year's Hunger Games. You all loved his confident personality. You know who it is: Finn Hartman, District 6!"

I walk on stage with my body shielded under my closed cloak. The audience is applauding wildly when I sense a breeze coming. Seizing the moment, I lift my arms throwing my cloak open like a mockingjay spreading its wings. The audience falls silent and gawks at me in awe.

My new cloak is waving in the gentle breeze and revealing its true beauty. Its constellations of stars twinkle brightly, absorbing and reflecting the stage lights. With the night sky above, the audience is trying to compare it to my mystifying cloak. If the murmuring is to be believed, my cloak's winning.

Even Jessica Maldiva, mildly enthusiastic during the other interviews, is dumbfounded by my cloak. I see Catilina playing with her whiskers in the audience; she nods approvingly. As if nothing just happened, I walk over to Jessica and patiently wait for her to speak while my cloak continues to amaze the audience.

"My, my, Finn, what an impressive entrance! We never knew your cloak could do this," Jessica beams.

"Oh, this isn't my usual cloak. My stylist, Catilina Clark, designed this one actually," I smile back.

"Catilina? Of course!" she gestures for the audience. "Catilina, please stand up so we can all applaud your ingenuity."

Catilina gladly rises from her seat and the entire audience, Jessica included, applauds like they've never applauded before. After Catilina sits down again, Jessica motions for us to sit down too. Once seated, she cuts right to the chase.

"Finn, Panem has come to know you as the cocky tribute boy from District 6. What's the secret to your confidence?"

"I just have faith that I'll make it out of these Games alive," I answer cheerfully. "I know the Great Mother will watch over me and guide me to victory."

Confused, she blinks a few times. "Who?"

"The Great Mother. She's the female deity that I believe in, my guardian angel if you will. She has sent me into the Hunger Games for a reason. I know she has big plans for me."

"Well," she pauses, "I believe you."

My face remains a stoic smile, but inwardly I'm baffled. _She believes me?_ But then she continues:

"I don't think there's such a thing as coincidence. You see, Finn, we found footage of you from last year's Hunger Games."

On her cue, the screens show last year's Reaping. Ian and I together, our reactions, ... _At least they had the decency to show the Reaping and not his death._

"Apparently, you knew last year's male tribute of your district. Ian Collins, right? What did you feel in that moment?" she asks.

"Nothing," I say icily. Some people in the audience grumble because of my disrespectful stoicism. Others snicker assuming I'm playing my role as the cocky boy from 6. They're both horribly wrong.

"I felt nothing," I continue, "because my world had just crashed. It collapsed, shattered into a million pieces. I was abandoned in a loveless dark hole, an abyss of disparity. I felt nothing because I had nothing left to feel."

My feelings greatly move the audience, causing some to wipe away tears. Even Jessica, who reaches for her chest and pitifully shakes her head.

"He must have been a very dear friend of yours," she comments.

"He was, but Ian was far more than that. He was the love of my life," I muse. The audience gasps and whispers fervently. Jessica's eyes widen before she continues in a determined voice:

"Are you saying Ian and you were in a relationship?"

I have placed myself in this difficult situation, but my secret is basically out already. What more do I have to hide?

"Exactly," I respond. "He was my boyfriend and I was his. He loved me until the day he died. I love him still."

The audience gasps again and the whispers turn to full-blown cries and shouts. Jessica tries to calm them, but when that fails, she signals the sound technicians to amplify our microphones.

"As you mentioned, Ian Collins, your boyfriend, died last year. Does his death motivate you to win, to honour him as a Victor?" she asks, her voice echoing loudly through the Capitol.

"Yes, he was an innocent boy whose luck ran out. He was chosen to die because the Capitol still wishes to punish the districts for a war that ended 74 years ago. His death was unnecessary and cruel," I spit. She looks at me disapprovingly and wants to ask another question, but I interrupt.

"Too many innocent children have died unnecessarily and in a cruel way. You Capitol people say it's all for the honour of the Games, but there's absolutely nothing honourable about them. They're a way to numb the masses, to keep them busy or to strike them with fear.

Well, to hell with your Games! These annual shows have brought nothing but misery while the people in the districts continue to suffer. They're starving, slowly withering away while you Capitol citizens eat and eat, and party and party, and do whatever mindless activity you engage in."

I rise from my seat and walk to the edge of the stage. No one stops me.

"I'm warning you, good citizens of the Capitol, a people can only take so much suffering. At some point, they'll stop being your slaves. They'll unite and march towards your precious city, and they will obliterate it. By the grace of the Great Mother!" I shout. I stick my arms up in the air spreading my fingers as if I'm casting a spell on the audience.

"Hear my words! Your reign will come to an end and the districts will level your city to the ground. All they need is a little spark, a little encouragement, someone to tell them they can reach their goals. If needs be, I'll be that person. But should I die, I'm sure someone else will take my place. Someone will stand up as leader, as unifier of the people.

No one forgets the innocent victims, be they tributes or the starving or the sick or Ian, my own innocent boyfriend. The Great Mother will see to it that justice is served."

I lower my arms, turn around and leave the stage. Again, no one stops me. The Capitol has never been this quiet. Once off stage, the audience claps softly and Jessica Maldiva continues the interviews. I walk backstage and Anthony runs towards me. I prepare for the worst, but then he exclaims:

"I don't know what that religious crap was for, but your outing was a stroke of genius! I have Capitol residents lining up to sponsor you. Most of them rich single men," he winks. _Gay men in the Capitol? Why am I not surprised?_

Unsure whether he meant to encourage me with his wink or wants to pimp me out, I nod and reply:

"The people of the Capitol recognise a Victor when they see one."

He chuckles. "Easy there 'Victor', you aren't crowned just yet. You haven't even set foot in the arena."

"I reckon that won't be long," I smile.

**A.N.: If you want to read more about the Sisterhood of the Bene Gesserit or the origins of the Cult, you can always check out my other work ****_Dune at Twilight_****.**

**Also, since this story was close to grossing 500 reads on Wattpad, I thank everyone who cooperated, read and commented on my story. Moreover, I've been considering to write a prequel and/or sequel when The Writing Games are finished. Now, I want you all reading to leave me a comment with your preference: would you rather read a ****_prequel_**** or ****_sequel_**** to Finn's Hunger Games? (I'll most likely write both though)**


	8. Do you trust me?

**A.N.: I may or may not have used a scene from ****_Dune_**** to describe a death. In other words, I most certainly did. XD  
**

Today is the day that will decide everything. Today is the real start of the Hunger Games. Today, 24 tributes between the ages of 12 and 18 will be dropped in an arena to fight to the death. By the end of today, half of us may be dead. I may be dead.

After my interview last night with Jessica Maldiva, the odds are definitely not in my favour. By openly defying the Capitol, I've made myself a target for the Gamemakers and President Snow. I'm not even sure if my religious speech inspired the districts enough to call me a martyr should I die.

At any rate, today, at the Cornucopia, life as I know it will change completely. I won't be in the safe confines of District 6. There certainly won't be any luscious banquets. Friends will be few and far between; I'll only have Holly. Until, of course, one of us decides to kill the other.

To stop these depressive thoughts, I get out of bed and get dressed without even looking at the clothes I pick. However, I pay a great deal of attention to my raven woollen cloak and the silver gom jabbar coiling around my left index finger.

I head out to breakfast next. Aside from "Pass the butter, please" or "Lovely weather", everyone at the table is remarkably quiet. If the tension were any more tangible, I could play patty cake with it. I simply stuff myself with rolls and knock back gallons of tea because starvation and dehydration kill as easily as a knife in the arena.

Then my prep team, Catilina, Anthony and I go to my room to prepare me for the pick up. Thankfully, my prep team doesn't groom me as elaborately as yesterday. My complexion still isn't back to its usual copper, despite Catilina's reassurances. Thus, Arminius brushes my hair and trims my split ends while Eleonor massages my skin with a protective lotion and Bestia files my nails (in a manner suited to the Cult).

"I don't know why we even bother," Arminius whispers to Catilina. "He's dead meat to the Gamemakers anyway." I expected this kind of remark, so I just ignore him, but Anthony is seething.

"What did you say?" he demands. Arminius merely stares at him anxiously, scissors in hand. "He doesn't need your negativity now, so shut up and cut his hair or get lost!"

Aghast, Arminius quickly finishes my hair and runs out. Catilina, in an attempt to console me, lifts my chin up and smiles in her unique, feline way.

"I'm sure the Gamemakers will treat you equally," she tries to sound convincing, but fails.

"Whatever happens will be part of the Great Mother's plan for me," I say absently, but just as I mention the Great Mother, Bestia 'accidentally' slips her file over one of my fingertips. I hardly notice because of my thick callus, but nothing seems to get past Anthony today.

"Hé, be careful! Even the smallest wound could mean a world of a difference in the arena."

Startled, she turns to Catilina for support while Eleonor, the only one of my prep team without a reprimand, meticulously continues her job. To Bestia's surprise, Catilina sides with Anthony.

"Bestia, dear, why don't you join Arminius?" she touches her shoulder lightly. "You've filed Finn's nails quite sufficiently. You may be proud of your work."

Still taken aback, Bestia dashes off. Before leaving, she glares at me, no doubt considering me a failed Cult tribute. Eleonor and Catilina finish their work and wish me good luck before they disappear. Then Anthony and I go to the hovercraft that'll take us to the arena.

* * *

After a long flight, Anthony and I are led into some sort of private changing room. A dark olive green jacket with lurid red hems, a sandy T-shirt, khaki trousers and black boots await me; these make up my suit for the arena tailored to its environment. Anthony helps me put it on and drapes my cloak over it.

"Remember what I told you: find a water source immediately and don't make a fire at night," he reminds me.

"Yes, I heard you the first 100 times," I grin.

"It never hurts to repeat."

We cross from the changing room into the launch room. A glass tube reaches all the way to the ceiling leading straight into the arena. I stand close to it waiting for the Gamemakers' cue.

"Finn, I'd take it easy with the religion," Anthony suddenly warns me. "I've been told that riots broke out back in the districts after your interview." _So that's why he was so on edge._

"Riots? Which districts?"

"Almost all of them, but nothing big. The Peacekeepers were back in control in no time," he pauses, contemplating whether to tell me something or not, and decides he should. "Many of the other mentors also suspect that the Gamemakers want you dead at any cost."

"Yes, wasn't that pretty clear after this morning?"

"Don't you realise what you've done? You basically said you'd declare war if you won. They can't have that!"

"Well, they're going to have to catch me first," I turn around for the tube.

"Boy," after a glare from me, he quickly corrects himself, "Finn, it's one thing to be confident, but how do you know the Gamemakers won't just blow you to bits if you win?"

"Because I won't stand alone in my victory."

"What does that even mean?" he shouts exasperatedly.

I turn back and approach him. "Do you trust me?"

He puts his hands in his sides and thinks for an excessively long time. Long enough even for the Gamemakers to start the countdown for the launch: _Ten, nine, …_

"More than any other tribute," he finally admits. _…, five, four, …_

"Then keep me alive in that arena." _… one._

I step onto the launching pad inside of the tube and it rises towards the ceiling as Anthony slowly fades away. I suddenly become aware of a stinging pain in my right arm. It still feels sore from the tracker that was injected there. When I finally reach the surface, the sudden sunlight blinds me.

As my eyes adapt, the arena reveals itself. It's a wide open plain of meadows and gardens with flowers in every imaginable shape and colour. The large shiny Cornucopia is right at the centre of this plain. The 24 tributes, each on their own launching pad, surround it in an evenly spaced circle. I immediately search this circle for Holly.

She's on her launching pad all the way across from me, so we'll have to fight our way through the others to reach each other. I just hope we'll both make it out of these hectic first minutes.

I look to my left and spot Puro, the boy from 10, on the launching pad next to mine. He has spotted me too and smirks in his bedazzling way.

Unfortunately for him, his smirk is still no match for Ian's. As if he realises that too, he winks at me. _What is up with these muscular men winking at me ever since I outed myself?_ He's trying to distract me and succeeding too because I hardly noticed the countdown in the arena. _… 24, 23, 22, …_

I focus on my breathing and prepare my muscles. I flex each muscle in my body warming them up for the big moment as the countdown continues. _… 17, 16, 15, 14, …_ I skim the ground: it's littered with supplies. My target is the Cornucopia itself, though.

… _10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1._

A gong sounds and we're off. I jump off the launching pad and race to the Cornucopia. Yet Puro quickly rushes ahead of me and doesn't slow down either. He's running like a madman while I'm barely able to follow and the others are right on my tail. I see Puro reach the Cornucopia and he promptly finds a sword.

I'm now just a few feet away and there isn't a chance in hell I'm going to let him use that sword. I jump, stretch my right leg and cut through the air like an ancient karate fighter. As Puro turns towards me, my foot crashes into his Adam's apple and he collapses like a falling tree. The sword thuds next to him on the ground.

I land on top of him, my foot still near his throat, while he's choking from my kick. I quickly scamper to my feet and snap his neck, which stops the choking. _Don't smile after a kill_, I remember my mother's words. _The districts will follow a warrior, but not a psychopath. _

I grab the sword, spin around with an even expression and watch for my next victim. Surprisingly, the tributes that were near me skidded to a stop when I jumped Puro. They hadn't expected such a skilled move and are hesitating to attack me. _Idiots!_

I lunge for the girl from District 3, who is closest to me. She has very dark brown, choppy hair that reaches past her shoulders and she's wearing spectacles bound to her head with a rubber. She can't be much younger than Holly.

She manages to dodge my first jab at her, but I whirl around her and chop my sword in her right side. My sword slashes her midsection, but gets stuck in her abdomen. I tug at it and as I pull it out of her, the girl from 3 slumps over sideways. I haven't even shifted back to the Cornucopia yet or a spear flies right by me.

I search for its origin and find the boy from 5 gawking at me in a throwing pose. I guess he tried to hit me, but missed, horribly. He's a year younger than me and has pale skin and strawberry blond hair. During his interview I overheard him saying he was named after a type of wine and that his parents were filthy rich. _If only his rich privileges had included throwing lessons..._

I take the spear and throw it back at him in the way you _should_ throw one. Wine-boy blots off, but forgets to stay clear of the path of the spear. The steel-tipped shaft pierces his back and breaks through his ribs in the front. The District 5 male falls flat on his face with a pole sticking out of his back.

I run back to the Cornucopia and keep my eyes open for attackers or Holly, but the others are mostly fighting amongst one another. Inside of the Cornucopia, I ransack the place for useful stuff, but a lot has been snagged away. I manage to find a set of four daggers, a packet of purifying tablets and a bag of apples.

Then I hit the jackpot: two dart guns. The large bronze wrist braces are empty, but luckily the darts as well as a few poison vials lie next to them. Hurriedly, I put the vials in my pocket, load the dart guns up and attach them to my wrists.

I dart out of the Cornucopia next, but an arrow nearly bores its way into me when I exit.

I instantly duck around it and leap outside. Yet the archer, the girl from District 2, pours a stream of arrows on me. She's just as old as the girl from 3, but she has an ebony skin and short, platinum blond hair that's combed over in a wave.

She rapid-fires her arrows, but I sidestep each one, twirling and snaking closer to her. Although I dodge-dance all her shots, one arrow hits the bag of apples on my back. Luckily, it gets lodged in an apple and not in my back. _This girl has aim! _Eventually, she runs out of arrows, though. That's when I'm close enough to kick my left leg up to her ribs.

My foot hits her right under her sternum, shoots through her diaphragm and indents the right ventricle of her heart. The girl from 2 then drops dead with a weird gurgling noise. This move shows the true extent of my Cult training and muscle control. It's a move every Cult member can be proud of.

No time to gloat, though, because the District 11 male jumps me with an axe, but I'm able to parry his swing with my sword. He's 17 years old, like wine-boy, but he's incredibly tall and muscular. He reminds me of Anthony, although this boy has grey hair and pale skin.

He keeps swinging at me with his axe and I parry each blow, but I notice that he's trying out angles and moves. He's strategically searching my weak spot! He swings at me sideways and I jump out of his way, but then his swing flows over in a new swing as he spins around and his axe comes down on me. I lift my sword and block his axe, but his sheer strength forces me to kneel.

From the corner of my eye, I notice the boy from 9 drawing a bow in my direction. The coward is actually going to shoot me while I'm fighting someone else.

Yet then he gets hit by a dagger. It's Holly! She quickly sends another dagger flying to the boy. This times she fatally wounds him and he sinks to the ground.

Seeing her motivates me to push against the boy from 11's axe. However, he moves our entangled weapons in a circle in the air, which knocks my sword out of my hands. When he swings again, I jump forward and kick his knee hard enough to dislocate it, which makes him kneel. I catch his axe on the shaft, turn it around in his hand and propel his arm backward. His axe splits his skull and the boy from District 11 goes down like a sack of potatoes.

I look around the Cornucopia: at least nine dead bodies and disregarded stuff everywhere. Remembering my new religious calling, I gaze up to the sky, determined and alive, and shout:

"Great Mother, hear my cry! Please, have mercy on these children now that they're with you. They were innocent! Have mercy on the rest of us too, who were forced to kill them.

Because remember this, people in the districts, none of us wished to kill the other. This is a sick game, made my sick people, who enjoy sick fantasies. Remember the names of today's fallen tributes and all those to come, because the Capitol has created 24 new martyrs on this day!"

I turn to Holly, who stands there in shock, and run to her. When I pass her, she comes to her senses and follows. I hurry away, making sure she can keep up. While running, nine cannons fire, which means nine tributes died. Holly and I end up in a large patch of tall grass about six feet high.

"We should rest," Holly heaves as she drops a bag of supplies on the ground.

"I agree," I nod. I take one of my four daggers and cut an area in the tall grass wide enough for us to lie down and sleep if need be. Then Holly empties the contents of her bag. A dagger, a kitchen knife and a rope thud on the ground.

"Well, that's not very much," she says. "But this is the Hunger Games. If it were easy, there would be no show." She takes the dagger and attaches it to her belt while I place my loot on the ground.

"Finn, do you have enough items?" she marvels at the amount of stuff I collected.

"A good collection of items at the beginning of the Games can be the difference between life and death," I lift my gaze over the tall grass and remember Anthony's command, "Finding water should be our first priority. We can use the apples as our main food source for now."

In the distance, I see the Cornucopia sticking out of the plain, and a few trees, but mainly meadows and flowers. No water to be found.

"There was no sight of water from the Cornucopia. Maybe they have hidden it in an object or something similar to that," I thought maybe the trees held water, but there weren't many. "I can't see any sign of water either. I haven't even seen any mud, just sand and dirt."

I give up on my wicked observation skills and crouch back down in our grass area. I can already imagine Anthony yelling and cussing at the Live feed in front of him.

"Do you have any ideas?" I ask Holly, but neither of us can come up with a plan to find water. I sit down and finally yank the stray arrow out of the bag of apples. I inspect my cloak: just some blood stains and dirt.

"The animals!" Holly suddenly blares out. After nearly giving our location away to our remaining rivals, she whispers:

"I mean, animals need both food and water to survive. You would think maybe the birds would stay within flying distance of a water source."

I nod when I realise she's right. I had seen numerous butterflies and a few sparrows near the Cornucopia.

"So you're suggesting we follow the birds until they lead us to water?", _it is a pretty genius idea, I have to admit_, "It might work. It's the only idea we have."

We immediately set off, me in front with my dart guns and Holly behind me with her dagger. If she wanted to kill me, she could have right there and then, but I knew she wouldn't. For now, we depended on each other.

* * *

Night falls over the arena and we still haven't found any water or birds, despite our efforts. We are still in the tall grass, so I decide to make camp:

"We should make a camp. It's late. The search can continue tomorrow."

"I agree. We'll need our energy as well for tomorrow," Holly says as she puts her bag down again and I start cutting another clearing. I examine the cut tall grass. It feels dense, so it can make for a sufficient cover.

"We can use these as blankets," I hand Holly some of the grass. "I'll take the night watch. You can sleep."

Strangely, she hesitates to take it. Then I realise she's afraid I might stab her while she sleeps. _I thought we were past these suspicions._

"Don't worry, I won't kill you in your sleep if that's what you're thinking. Having an alliance is good." _And if I wanted you dead, you would be by now_, I think, but I keep that to myself.

Slightly less hesitant, she accepts the tall grass 'blanket' and lies down. After about twenty minutes, she finally falls asleep. Exhausted, I slump down to the ground. The long, physically straining day has got the better of me.

I eat one of the apples to replenish my lost energy and keep my observant gaze on our surroundings. Then the national anthem booms over the arena, but Holly sleeps right through it. I want to wake her up, but decide not to because she needs her rest.

Next, the faces of today's fallen tributes are projected in the sky. The girl from 2, whom I killed earlier, is first, which means both District 1 Careers survived. _Damn it, I should have hunted those! _The District 3 female with her spectacles follows, then it's wine-boy, the girl from 8, both tributes from 9 (including the boy Holly killed), Puro and both tributes from 11 (with the axe wielder).

The projections disappear and the anthem stops, which means Vexare, the girl from 12, is still alive too. That's good at least, although I feel kind of sorry for Puro. He seemed like a nice guy and he was ridiculously good-looking. Unfortunately, he was as dumb as a rock.

Then a new sound reaches me and it terrifies me. The growls of wild animals attract my attention to a large ring of fire with flames reaching up to ten feet high far away in the distance. Holly definitely needs to see this, so I shake her shoulder.

"Get up!" I say, my voice hushed yet alarming.

"What is it?" she asks, still drowsy.

"A secret of the arena. One we will definitely want to avoid."

She gets up and follows my gaze. The ring of fire frightens her too.

"Whatever is in there, we want to avoid it. Do you want me to wait out the rest of the night, so you can sleep?" she asks, but she already knows the answer.

"I don't need sleep," I shake my head. In the heat of the moment, I exaggerated a bit, although there is one technique… Anyway, I keep my eyes fixed on the fire, especially now the screams of another tribute are mixed in with the growls.

"I guess I will see you in the morning then," Holly says as she gets back to sleep. Not much later, another cannon fires. Another tribute dead, that makes ten. Hopefully, we won't become eleven and twelve.

**A.N.: I added a video where you can sort of see what I mean by 'dart gun'. It's not a perfect rendition, but it'll do:**** (on YouTube) watch?v=XO-UghJQGko ******A massive thanks to PotterOwl because she saved my chapter with her genius ideas, since I had little time to write due to my finals. Also, thanks to YellowValia, lazybun, Betweenzeelines, ReyKings and butterfly440 for creating characters that Finn could take out. I hope you guys aren't mad ;)****


	9. A Song of Fire and Monsters

_When will this Hunger Games end?_

After a week in the arena, I'm starting to get restless. For Holly and I the first day of the Hunger Games had been the most intense at the Cornucopia. Things slowed down afterwards. We searched for water, which we found the second day; we laid traps and snares for food, which supplied a variety of small woodland critters; and we constantly watched our backs for any remaining tributes.

However, we didn't have to watch our backs. In the entire week we have spent in the arena, we haven't come across another tribute yet. The only news we receive about the others reaches us through the firing cannons and the projections in the sky. There are only four of us left, if the cannons haven't deceived me.

Still, Holly and I are always on edge, especially at night. It turns out that the ring of fire, with monsters inside, appears every night and switches locations each time. So whenever we see the fire start somewhere else, we breathe a sigh of relief that we managed to escape it once again. Though, the pessimist within me assumes that it won't be long before our luck runs out.

Now we've sort of fallen into a routine. We leave our tall grass hiding place in the morning, go to the small creeks where we get our water from and drink as much water as we can swallow. During the day we often return there to make sure we stay hydrated. After the creeks, we check our traps and snares and immediately skin and gut our game.

In the evening, we go back to our hiding place in the tall grass and go to sleep with one of us keeping watch. Today was no different as we arrive at our secret patch in the field of waving grass.

"I'm exhausted," I sigh as I lie down on the ground. I bring my dart guns to my face and check if they're still strapped on properly. They are.

"Me too," Holly sits down. "I wish we could just go to sleep next to a warm fire. It's too bad that we would give away our position if we did."

One of Anthony's constant reminders before the Games was that I not make a fire at night, lest I wish to die a violent death. After a week alone with Holly, I would do anything to hear his strict, deep voice again. Not that Holly isn't nice company, but if you are together 24/7, conversations become pretty monotonous.

"Indeed, and not to mention that massive fire that starts every night. I hope we never run into it," I say, shivers running down my spine. The nightly ring of fire terrifies me more than anything.

"We've been doing good at not running into it so far. I wonder what is inside the fire. It's probably not delightful, but it is a mystery," Holly shrugs.

"Let's hope it stays that way. I have no intention of finding out first hand what's inside that ring of death."

"Maybe someone actually survived it in there and we can ask them," she jokes.

I snort. "If whatever monstrosity inside the ring didn't kill them, I bet the fire burnt them to a crisp anyway."

"Which of the tributes are still alive anyway? There is only a handful of us left."

"If I'm not mistaken, the only ones that are still alive are the girl from 7 and Vexare, the girl from 12. And us of course."

I'm conflicted whether I like that. I'm happy Vexare was able to survive for over a week too, but this also means we might have to fight one another to win. We only talked for a short time during training, but she impressed me. Fighting her would be challenging.

"The finale should be coming soon then," Holly realises. "Don't they normally bring the remaining tributes together when there is four or three left?"

"They do. Usually with a feast. They really should call it 'massacre' because no one's really enjoying the feast," I grumble.

If the Games get boring or when there are only a handful of tributes left, the Gamemakers have the sociopathic tendency to invite them to 'feasts'. At such a feast, supplies that the tributes are in dire need of will be provided and when they arrive, other tributes will of course try to kill them. Going to the feast basically means going to the slaughter.

Holly laughs. "It's a feast if you take all of the bags and get triple the amount of supplies. But, yes, there is more massacring going on then feasting there."

"You know, if they did hold a feast, we could make it. It's two against two and we're a team," I put forward.

"That's true. What do we really need, though? Water maybe?"

"No, we're good on that so far. Those small creeks we found on the second day will pull us through as long as they don't get polluted," I point up to the sky in a meaningful way. I wouldn't put it past the Capitol to do so.

"That's true. We're practically set on everything."

"True. Anything else would be a luxury, so to speak. You're right about the feast, though. We are the final four. Something needs to happen, something big."

"We should keep ourselves on high alert tonight just in case they are bringing us together."

"Good, but I really need some sleep. Do you mind taking the first watch?"

"Okay. I'll wake you if anything important happens."

We eat the game we roasted earlier today and then I go to sleep while Holly takes the first watch. Unfortunately, my restlessness from the day continues into the night. I keep struggling to fall asleep and when I do, I have a nightmare.

In my nightmare, I'm back at the Cornucopia on the first day of the Hunger Games. Just as I leave the Cornucopia, I get shot at with arrows. I dodge each one manoeuvring closer every time. The archer runs out of arrows and that's when I kick my leg up.

As I see my leg penetrate the archer's diaphragm, the person's face turns into Ian. I want to pull my foot out again, but somehow I can't stop and my toe indents the right ventricle of his heart. Wobbling on his feet and his bewildered gaze upon me, Ian opens his mouth. Yet it's Holly's screaming voice that leaves it:

"Finn!"

I wake up instantly, only to find Holly hunched over me shaking my shoulders and screaming my name. Behind her, a roaring fire reaches up to ten feet high. _The ring of fire_, I panic.

"Finn, get up! We need to go!" she yells.

I jump up and grab a bag of supplies that once held apples. I turn to Holly:

"Grab whatever you can and stay close behind me."

She quickly gathers the rest of our stuff and we run off together. Without hesitation, we flee the tall grass and speed in the opposite direction of the fire. It must have started just now because it hasn't formed a complete circle yet. _We can still escape this. _I run like the wind, but all of the sudden Holly tugs at my cloak and pulls me to the ground.

"Watch out!" she shouts as she takes cover.

A blazing fireball crashes in front of me missing me by a hair. If Holly hadn't pulled me down, I would have been blasted to ashes. With my legs spread out in front of me, I gawk at the crater of fire.

"They're after you," Holly tells me. "I didn't see fireballs flying around the ring of fire on the other nights."

After a quick analysis, I realise she's right. I didn't hear or see any fireballs before either, so this must be a special treat from the Gamemakers. This is how they'll make sure I don't start a rebellion if I win. They'll fry me before I get the chance!

"You're right. You better run in front of me then. It will be easier for them to hit me from behind," I explain.

"What? You're not going to put yourself in the line of fire, are you?" Holly asks.

"It's me they want. I can't risk them firing at you to hit me," I see a fireball coming the other way, "Run!"

She jumps to her feet and bolts away as I run behind her. The fireball hits right next to the previous crater and destroys the place where we stopped. We got out just in time, but we still have the ring to deal with. While we pulled back for the fireball, the ring of fire spread and completed a semi-circle.

We hurry to stay ahead of it, but smoke and heat lick at our bodies as we sprint across the meadows. Butterflies, sparrows and other flying creatures rise up from their hiding places and soar up high into the sky. All sorts of rodents scurry past and beneath us in an attempt to escape.

Another fireball flies past us from the left and obliterates the meadow before us. Holly gives its crater a wide berth and heads out to the opening that separates the one end of the ring of fire from the other. I follow her leaving a gap between us. If a fireball hits me, I will be far away enough for her to flee unharmed.

As we rush closer to the opening, the smoke and heat increase. Both of us start coughing, which means we need to get our butts out of this mess fast. The two ends of the ring of fire raise closer to each other and before Holly has reached the opening, they meet and seal off the ring of fire. _We're trapped_, I panic once again.

"Holy cow, what do we do now?" Holly panics too.

"I don't know. Let's follow the circle from a safe distance. If we keep near the fire, whatever's inside the ring will take a while to find us." I'm not sure how that would work, but it's as good a plan as any at this point.

"But what if it does?"

"Then may the Great Mother help us."

We stay closer together now and run along the bends of the ring of fire. Several times we hear the growls of large animals, but they always seem far away and as we follow the ring further, their sounds shrink.

Then all of the sudden a platinum blond flash jumps in front of us. It's Vexare, the girl from District 12. She's covered in dirt and ashes and her glossy hair has gone dim. She has a sword in a scabbard on one side of her belt and a rolled-up whip on the other. An expression of fear, panic, anger and now surprise contorts her face.

"Well, well, long time no see," she grins.

"Hello Vex. How have you been enjoying your stay in the arena?" I raise an eyebrow sarcastically.

"Oh, I've been busy. You know, surviving, killing others, running from fire and monsters...the usual."

"Have you seen the monsters?" I ask, sincere interest in my voice. Holly, unsure what to think of Vexare, stays behind me with a dagger ready.

"Yeah, and they're not pretty. I barely made it out just now," she switches her gaze to Holly, "Who's she?"

"Hi, I'm Holly. I'm from District 6 too," she introduces herself in her own quirky way.

"Hello. Vexare, District 12."

"Well, we'd love to stay and chat, but we have a ring of fire to escape..." I turn around and signal Holly to follow, but Vexare calls to us.

"Hé, wait! You're not just going to leave me here?"

"Are you going to stab us in the back if we don't?" Holly replies.

"What good would that do me?"

"You'd be crowned Victor," I retort. The smoke's starting to thicken again. _We need to move._

"Not quite. There's still that other girl. From 7. I've been looking all over for her," she smirks mischievously.

"Yeah, she's a psycho. Let's go before she starts laughing like a mad scientist," Holly whispers to me.

Suddenly, another fireball travels in our direction. I grab both Holly and Vexare by the arm and drag them away. They start running when they see the fireball too. The fiery projectile explodes on impact and sends all three of us rushing through the meadows and bushes.

Our escape is short-lived, though. That last fireball drove us deeper into the ring of fire...right into the monsters. At the edge of a small forest, the growls become the loudest they've been so far and I know we've made a huge mistake. The trees start to give way and enormous beasts step out from between them.

The mutated monsters look at us licking their lips and baring their long, sharp fangs. Right in front of us stands a 9ft. tall grizzly bear with the heavy tusks of an elephant. A massive black wolf with six snake-like tails crouches behind it. Next to it, a lean, muscular tiger rests on its hind legs. A number of other terrors lurks behind us too.

"Crap. Not these things again," Vexare snarls.

"Okay, we need a plan. Any suggestions?" Holly asks.

"Spread out. Divide and conquer," Vexare nods confidently.

"No, we need to stay together. If we separate, they'll take us out one by one."

"She's right. We have to fight back to back," I agree.

"Fine, but if I die because of this, I'm going to be real pissed," Vexare remarks.

The three of us turn our backs to one another, stick together and keep a weapon ready. The big mutts start to circle around us stalking us like prey. To them, we probably are prey. First, the tusked grizzly bear lashes out at me with its claws. I quickly fend them off with the bronze gloves of my dart guns and kick the beast in its gut.

Meanwhile, the six-tailed wolf lunges at Vexare and the lean tiger lashes out at Holly. Vexare firmly knocks the wolf's jaws shut with the hilt of her sword and knees it in the chest. Holly fends off one tiger paw with her kitchen knife and stabs its other paw with her dagger. Both beasts recoil and circle us again.

The tiger then stands up on its hind legs and kicks its right hind leg up to the side of Vexare. She jumps backwards to avoid getting sideswiped, but this pushes Holly and I closer to the bear and wolf.

The bear tries to impale Holly with its tusks, but she ducks down to the front, going underneath the tusks. She takes both her kitchen knife and dagger and impales the mutt in return. It howls and brings its massive head down to bite her. She quickly rolls from under it and slashes its hind legs in the process.

In the meantime, the wolf spread its six tails and struck me with them like a whip. I couldn't block them all and some hit me in the face and on my arm. As its tails hit me, the wolf lunged forward, its sharp teeth oozing with saliva.

I manage to push off the ground and throw myself in the air. The wolf bites down on its own teeth as it misses me. Once in the air, I twist my left leg a bit, which unsheathes a dagger. It falls down hilt first, I catch it in my hand, arch my back, fall on the wolf's back and roll over it.

I land behind the wolf on the ground, jump back up and stab my dagger into its pelvis. It yelps, whirls around with a ferocious growl and lunges at me again.

But then Vexare cracks her whip and hits the mutt hard on its right shoulder. It turns around again and tries to strike her with its whip-tails, but she cracks her whip first, which gets entangled with the wolf's tails. The two are at a tug of war when the tusked bear attacks me again.

"Vex!" a young girl yells all of the sudden. The yell comes from a Jabberjay resting on a branch of one of the trees. Jabberjays are genetically engineered birds that can perfectly imitate any sound. Vexare immediately recognises the voice and turns to the large slick bird.

"Avriette!" she gasps, but then she sees the Jabberjay. The young girl's call distracts her long enough for the wolf to lunge at her and bite down on her shoulder. She screams and the wolf bites down even harder, blood streaming from Vexare's shoulder.

I immediately stretch my arms and hands. This shoots a poisonous dart from my left dart gun at the bear and a regular one from the right at the wolf. The bear releases me and the wolf releases Vexare, only to turn to me. The wolf lunges at me, but I duck under it and stab a dagger through its heart. It yelps one last time and drops dead on top of me.

Vexare lies behind it bleeding heavily from her shoulder. I push the dead mutt off of me and crawl to her. A large pool of blood has formed around her since the wolf bit down hard and deep. By the time I reach her, I hear a cannon fire. _She's dead._

Enraged, I turn to the remaining beasts. Holly is still fighting the standing tiger. It was able to scratch one of her arms, but she withstood the pain and is close to killing the monster. I turn to the tusked grizzly bear instead.

The poisonous dart I shot at it has kicked in and the beast is wobbling on its feet, blood dripping from the cuts Holly made. The monstrosity throws itself at me in a final strike, but I jump away instantly and it misses. Then I hear a familiar sound. I pinpoint its origin and get an idea.

"Hé, ugly!", I wave my arms to grab the bear's fading attention, "Is it me you're after? Come and get me!"

"Finn?" Holly calls. She's pushing the tiger off of her with her sharp weapons and looks at me in confusion.

"Trust me!" I reply as I lead the tusked grizzly into the desirable position. Heavily weakened by my poisonous dart, it lumbers in at the right spot. It raises it head and growls, but then I jump to the side. A fireball hits the large bear full frontal and blows it to warm slabs of second-rate steak.

I wasn't fast enough, though. The fireball scorched my lower left leg and now I can't stand up properly. Yet all around me new fiends are creeping up on me.

Holly notices my predicament and finishes the tiger off. She knocks its head up under its jaw and slashes its throat with her dagger. Blood sprays her face as the humanoid tiger gurgles its final breath.

Meanwhile, an anaconda slithers towards me baring its several rows of hook-like teeth. I stretch my right arm and hand, and shoot a dart through the anaconda's skull. As it slumps to the ground, Holly warns me:

"Tracker Jackers!"

The golden, extremely venomous wasps buzz towards me in a small wave, but I get up on my good leg and bite through the pain as I limp towards Holly. _I've faced worse pain during Mother's humanity test. Bring it on, Capitol!_

Holly catches me when I reach her, supports me on the left and helps me run. A few Tracker Jackers torpedo themselves at us and 'successfully' sting us. We pick up the pace and cut through the small forest, but in there a new terror awaits us.

As Holly practically drags me further, she rustles up one of the bushes. A bat-size moth flies up from it and spreads its massive white-specked orange and brown wings. I recognise the insect at once.

It's the Atlas moth, the largest moth in the world. At least, that's what its ancestor used to be. The Capitol genetically manipulated this harmless moth to inject its victims with a powerful neurotoxin. This paralyses anyone within a minute, slows down their metabolism and keeps them in a coma for several days until they die of organ failure.

It's this beautiful yet fatal bug that flies towards me. It's this mesmerising yet lethal insect that stings me. It's this seemingly innocent yet dangerous creature that makes me collapse instantly on the ground pulling Holly with me.

The Tracker Jacker venom already had me hallucinating, but as the colourful moth flutters away, my mind loses its grip on reality. I hear noises and feel roughness beneath and beside me, but all I can see is blurred and twisted. As I close my eyes, I catch a glimpse of the ten feet high ring of fire that dies down. _I survived the ring of fire, barely._

* * *

***Announcement***

**Hello dear readers!**

**This is where ****_The Writing Games of 2013_**** ended. Since PotterOwl didn't post her final assignment, I automatically won, which also means Finn Hartman won :D I want to thank you all for reading this story and supporting it as you did. It really means a lot to me! I gained so much experience from this and I met some amazing people in the process.**

**However, that the contest ended doesn't mean Finn's story has to end. You will see that the next chapters are completely freeform, i.e. they don't have to live up to contest requirements. You will also see that some of them will be written from a different perspective. Or at least I hope I will have such chapters if PotterOwl and AwesoMEbeing_ would like to help me :p**

**Furthermore, I asked in one of the previous chapters whether you'd like to read a prequel, or sequel to Finn's story, but no one responded. Thus I re-ask the question. After this story is finished, would you like to read a PREQUEL or a SEQUEL? (I'll probably write both, but this will give me an idea what I should write first.)**

**Thanks again for all the support and I hope you continue reading! In the next chapter, Finn will have to face his inner demons. Enjoy!**


	10. Mind over Matter

**! Spoiler Alert: If you are reading _Dune at Twilight_ too, this chapter will contain spoilers to that story!**

Loud. Soft. Bright. Dark. Fragrant. Smelly. Hot. Cold. Wet. Dry. Different sensations, but nothing clear. Everything comes at me at once, but at the same time nothing reaches through to me. All I hear is murmured. All I see is blurred. All I feel is senseless.

My mind struggles to stay in charge. It has already lost control over my body, which lies paralysed on the ground. Or is it lying on a floor? Or in a bed? Or nowhere at all and am I already dead? I can't tell. My senses are confused beyond reproach, my sharpest tools rendered completely useless.

I try to think, to remember what happened. I see colours moving: white, orange and brown. The colours move rapidly, fluttering around and past me. _Fluttering._ Like an insect. _The Atlas moth!_ I was stung! The large bug injected me with its neurotoxin, paralysing me, sentencing me to death.

But I'm not dead yet. Am I? No, I can't be. I'm still thinking. I'm still sensing, however jumbled up the input may be. I try to focus again, to remember the Atlas moth. Yes, I was definitely stung, but I remember getting stung several times. What other creatures stung me?

I remember a voice, as clear as crystal, screaming, warning me. _Tracker Jackers!_ the voice had shouted. That's what also stung me: Tracker Jackers! _By the Great Mother, an Atlas moth _and_ Tracker Jackers stung me! _Then why am I not dead yet? That's one lethal combination; why hasn't my body given up yet?

Or has it? Maybe; I _am_ paralysed. Perhaps my body has given up, but my mind is still strong enough to fight my body's defeat. How cruel: an active mind trapped within a dead body.

Maybe I should give up? Maybe I should let the paralysis reach my mind as well and end this entire mess? To be freed from these bodily chains, to be in eternal peace and slumber, hopefully able to see my beloved Ian again.

_Ian!_ O my dear Ian, my lovely, handsome Ian! My first and only love, my boyfriend, my lover, my soulmate, my reason d'etre. I can still clearly picture him, his face as manly and cheeky as ever. _Oh Ian, let me be with you!_ Take me away from this God forsaken hellhole and let me die, so I can once again feel your presence.

My Ian; he's dead. He died...he was murdered. But how again? _In the Hunger Games! _He was reaped a year ago, reaped to die at the hands of...a Cult member! _The Cult!_ More and more things are coming back to me. My mind fights for survival, remembering facts and events to raise my spirits.

Ian was my boyfriend and he went into last year's Hunger Games. That year's Cult tribute killed him. Both of them died. I'm this year's Cult tribute. I'm dying, but not yet gone. I wanted to avenge Ian's death. I wanted to punish those who had orchestrated his death. I wanted to hit the Capitol where it hurt, in the same way they had hurt me by reaping Ian.

I still want to avenge his death. I still want to take down the Capitol. I still want to see President Snow choke on his own blood as his city goes up in flames. I want to destroy the Capitol and all it represents: its dictatorship, its imposed slavery, its Hunger Games, its corrupt and unfair society. I will bring all of it down and everyone that's stupid enough to defend it.

But to do so, I must wake up. I must come back to life. The unconscious paralysis needs to disappear, but how? How long have I been unconscious and paralysed? The venom of the Atlas moth takes several days to kill its victim. Add the Tracker Jacker venom to that and I would have, what? Maybe three days to live? Less even?

My mind is indeed still strong, fighting both venoms. I would've been dead by now if the Cult hadn't trained me so extensively. I'm going to use this same training to examine myself. My extreme muscle and nerve control should enable that.

I focus on my body again and try to determine the extent of the paralysis. But in doing so, I let the Tracker Jacker venom through. I start to hallucinate. I see a monstrous bear with tusks, a wolf with snake-like tails and a humanoid tiger. The monsters stalk closer and surround me. _Wait!_ I'm not hallucinating. This was real!

No, the monsters were real, but the images before me aren't. The Tracker Jacker venom conjured them up as it slowly seeped into my brain. It shouldn't be slow actually; Tracker Jacker venom works fast. Perhaps the Atlas moth venom has slowed it down just as it slowed down my metabolism?

Instead of the paralysis, I focus on the Tracker Jacker venom. Suddenly, it's as if I can see the venom coursing through my veins, feel it causing the hallucinations. I take a closer look and then everything goes black. I feel, nor hear, nor see, nor smell anything. Darkness surrounds me entirely.

Then green light shines through. It's a little, bright green orb fluttering towards me. It circles around me, buzzing like a wasp. I touch it and it stings me like a bee. I hallucinate again, but I look beyond the scrabbled visions and focus on the green orb again.

I cradle it in my hands. I let it feel my love, the love I once felt for Ian. It doesn't sting me anymore and its buzzing dies down. As its green colour dims, I close my hands around it. When I open them again, the green orb has turned sparkling gold. A wave of warmth, light and comfort oozes from the golden orb.

Suddenly, the darkness has disappeared completely. I'm stampeding across a paved square. I'm back in District 6! My long, black locks wave wildly in the air I stir up. _Long locks?_ This isn't one of my memories. _What am I seeing? What is happening to me?_

I see a handsome boy with deep, dark brown eyes. He's really tan and has chestnut brown hair. Smudges of oil stain his blue shirt. He smirks a charming smile, but somehow that only angers me more.

"Hi babe. How are you?" the chestnut-haired boy asks.

"I'm pregnant," I snarl. My voice; I would recognise it anywhere. It's my mother's! I'm speaking with my mother's voice; I'm reliving her memory. _How is that even possible?_

"Pregnant?" the boy gasps. "How is that even possible?" _Join the club!_

"How do you think?" my mother shouts. She has so much rage in her 17-year-old body. I feel it reverberating through her every muscle.

"But we only slept together once," the boy, who I assume is my father, stammers. He is quite handsome, I must admit. I can imagine Mother being with him, secretly proud of dating such a catch.

"Once was more than enough," she grinds her teeth. There's not the slightest bit of love left inside of her, only rage and hate. "You ruined everything!"

She jumps him and strangles him to death. The scene fades away, my mother's emotions and sensations gone.

A new surrounding appears before me. I'm in a thick forest of tall, evergreen pine trees. I'm huddled behind one of the trees with my two hands firmly gripping an axe. I slowly peer around the trunk of the tree.

I see a tall, muscular, blond girl running towards me, but she doesn't spot me. Relief washes over me. The muscular girl has a blood-stained sword in her right hand, but she's nearly unscathed. _Murderous Career_, pops up in my mind, but I didn't think it.

I wait until she's close enough and then I pull a wire tight. The wire is strung from a nearby tree to where I'm sitting. The blond Career doesn't notice the wire and runs right into it. She trips and hits the ground hard. I jump up, kick her sword away and roll her over. I want to see her face and for her to see mine. Shock and terror now flash across hers.

"This is for Ruben," I swing my axe up and start chopping away at her face, her chest, her limbs, you name it! When I'm done, I'm completely soaked in blood. The national anthem starts to play and a colourful man is projected in the sky above the pine trees. Next to him appears a Live feedback where I see a 15-year-old girl, her chestnut brown hair dripping with blood.

"Congratulations! Panem, may I present to you the Victor of the 28th annual Hunger Games: Valorie Garnett, District 6!" the brightly coloured man bellows. I burst out into tears, some of happiness, some of self-loathing. _I'm only 15. What have I done?_

The memory fades away again. Who is Valorie Garnett? Victor of the 28th Hunger Games and the female tribute of District 6 obviously, but why did I see her memory? I've never seen this girl, who by now must be 61 years old. Her face did seem familiar though, or at least aspects of it...

_By the Great Mother! _I suddenly realise who this girl, now an elderly woman, is. Her chestnut brown hair matches that of my father's and her features resemble his. Valorie Garnett is my paternal grandmother! What are the odds that my grandmother was a Hunger Games Victor and that I'm now in the current Hunger Games and reliving her memories?

As this realisation hits me, I hear heavy doors getting unlocked as if someone opened the flood gates. Waves of memories and faces wash over me, breaching through the levees of history and time. Each memory ripples outward stretching out into an ocean of names, thoughts, feelings, experiences and more memories.

I feel as if I'm drowning in the tsunami of information that submerges me in the lives of my female ancestors. Every time I think I broke through the surface of yet another sea of memories, a new wave crashes over me, pulling me under again.

However, I manage to grab onto a lifeline, a connecting thread that reaches from my own memories into a straight line of women across the ages. This is my own unbroken bloodline of female ancestors, flowing over from mothers to daughters to me. Whenever a chain of memories meanders through the women of a paternal bloodline, I can always find my way back to this unbroken female line.

Suddenly, my main bloodline takes me back in time, a couple centuries removed from now. The female ancestor whose memories pour into me now is by far the strongest yet. Her unique life stands out amongst the myriad of memories I've already witnessed.

This woman is named Embry Call. She's the fourth Bene Gesserit of my bloodline, but she's the most skilled of all the Bene Gesserit and Cult members that went before me. She was a Native American woman who had seen more unbelievable things before the age of 18 than some people in their entire life.

Embry Call had to conceive a child when she was 15, but failed. She ran with humongous wolves and fought sparkling monsters with skin as hard and cold as diamonds. She withstood psychological warfare and kept great secrets. Against all her conditioning, she fell in love with an impossible partner, same as I.

Yet she was strong and willful. She openly defied the Sisterhood and eventually married the boy that everyone had discouraged her from loving, even her own mother. Even more so, she refused to have children with the mates the Bene Gesserit chose for her and only slept with her beloved husband.

Although the Sisterhood had preferred a different bloodline, they accepted the children Embry and her husband produced, and they were a fruitful couple! They had thirteen children, all girls, except for their oldest son. I'm descendant of Embry Call's thirteenth child, her twelfth and final daughter. One of the three daughters she had after she became a Reverend Mother.

_Reverend Mother._ The term turns and twists in my mind like a whirlpool. A Reverend Mother is a Bene Gesserit that survived the Agony, a trial in which a lethal venom is injected. During the Agony, the chosen Sister has to neutralise the venom, thus unlocking the memories of all her female ancestors from the moment they are born until the moment they give birth to their daughter.

Is that what happened to me? Did I neutralise the Tracker Jacker venom and really unlock all my female ancestral memories? Did I actually become the first Reverend Mother since the great nuclear disaster that annihilated half the continent? Did I accomplish the impossible?

As this conclusion dawns on me, I become aware of my body again. My mind finally gets some peace after the hurricane of memories and information. While my mind slowly recovers, I discover a new ability that was unlocked together with the memories of my female ancestors. I'm now able to control my body on a cellular level, a side-effect of the neutralisation of the Tracker Jacker venom.

I instantly search my cells for any remainder of the Tracker Jacker and Atlas moth venoms. The former has been completely neutralised, but the latter still courses through me. I focus on the venom of the Atlas moth and discover that I can neutralise that as well. When I do so, my body restores itself from the paralysis.

As my body slowly wakes up, I check for any wounds or illnesses I may have. I still have bite marks from all the bugs that attacked me. I let those cells heal themselves and focus on my left leg next. It got fried when a fireball flew past it, but I discover that it has been healing already thanks to some ointment.

My entire system returns to its original state and I become aware of new sounds. I hear two girls' voices bickering with each other. It's Holly! But who is that other voice? I faintly recognise it, but I can't match it to a face or a name. Coincidentally, they're bickering about me. The strange voice wants to kill me to end my suffering. Holly refuses entirely; she believes that I'm still alive. She's right.

I try to move my arms or legs and manage to wiggle my right foot. _Come on, Finn. You can do better than that._ I breathe in heavily, which startles Holly and the unknown girl, and lift the upper part of my body off the ground.

"Finn!" Holly gasps.

I open my eyes slowly and my blurred vision clears up. I see Holly and a 14-year-old girl with long, waving ginger hair, whom I realise is the other remaining tribute, the girl from District 7. They both gawk at me.

"Finn, you're awake!" Holly shrieks as she lunges at me and hugs me tight.

"How is that even possible?" the girl from 7 whispers. _That's the third time I've heard that. _Broadly grinning, Holly releases me, but she stares at my face.

"Are you okay?" she asks hesitantly.

"I feel weak from the time I was paralysed, but..." I start to explain, but the girl from 7 interrupts me.

"Your eyes!" she gasps.

"Excuse me?"

"Finn, your eyes are gold," Holly says. "They're completely coloured gold."

**A.N.: Yes, I just had a little cross-over with _Twilight_ as well as one of my own fan fictions. If you want to read more about Embry Call, you can check out _Dune at Twilight_ on my profile. You will, however, have received a few spoilers from this.**


	11. Recovery

**A.N.: This chapter was written by PotterOwl and AwesoMEbeing_ from Wattpad. Thanks a lot for the collaboration!**

**POV Holly Jones**

I sit up quickly. _Where am I? What am I doing?_ My head turns and I see a large open field surrounded by a ring of large flames. I can't seem to recall what happened. All I know is that it was something bad. The arena is always bad.

Slowly, I get onto my feet. My vision is shaky and unclear. I try to stagger through the field. What seems like thousand of voices speak in my head making it hard to concentrate. Some of the voices I've never even heard before. _Congratulations. Oh, that's wonderful. _There are gunshots, explosions, and cannons going off as well. The noises are so vivid, I can't tell if they are real or not. Before I can decide, I trip and fall.

I can feel my heart pounding as I fall. My body just keeps falling and falling. The falling doesn't stop. As I look around, I see pure darkness. It's as if I'm falling down a dark canyon. _If you're ever in trouble or you want troubles to go away, just close your eyes, count to ten, and open, _I can hear the voice of my father talking to a nine-year-old Holly. _Just close your eyes and count to ten. _That's just what I do.

My surrounding is completely changed now. I'm inside a train now. It's moving and full of passengers, none of whom seem to notice me. As I peer out the window, I notice that the train is just outside District 6. _Did I win the Hunger Games? Am I going home?_ The large electronic clock on the wall states that it is 2:43 in the afternoon. The date is also projected on the wall. It's the tenth of October 65 ADD. _How is that possible?_ The year that I went into the games was 70 ADD.

Ten-ten. The day is remembered by everyone in District 6. October tenth is the day the work train malfunctioned and exploded. Every ounce of hope and happiness drains from my body.

"Everybody get off the train!", I'm shouting at the top of my lungs as I push through the crowd, "Please, get off! It's about to explode!"

My shouting does nothing. No one hears me. No one acknowledges me. It's as if they can't even see me.

I hear a loud rumble and the train begins to shake. People begin screaming and running around attempting to leave the train. Alas, they cannot. The doors and windows are sealed shut while traveling. The temperature has risen tremendously leaving the compartment feeling like an oven. And then, it happened. Flames and smoke covered the sky as the train was ripped into multiple pieces. I was sent flying into the air. Sure I was going to die, I closed my eyes.

When I opened my eyes, everything that surrounded me was light, so light, it was bright. The ground beneath my fingers was soft and fluffy. There was nothing anywhere near me. Just myself in the empty canvas that is my location.

_Am I dead? I couldn't be. There was no way that I was on that train and blew up. That happened years ago. If I'm not dead, then where am I? _My head filled with multiple questions at once making it hard for me to think. Old stories said death to be a dreadful place full of darkness and loneliness. But, if you were a good person and did no wrong, then you would travel to a place so amazing that words couldn't describe it. I've killed, even though it wasn't exactly my choice, I still killed. There is no way that I was in the world's greatest place.

I took a step forward. My foot instantly sank through the cloud-like flooring. I tried to pull my foot back above the surface, but it wouldn't budge. Slowly the rest of my body kept sinking too. I tried to grab onto something, anything, but everything I touched wasn't solid. Once again, I began falling into the unknown.

I was surprised to see myself burnt, but alive. I was lying in a field. There was still a strong heat, but nothing had exploded. I was back inside the arena. Everything was just a hallucination, a very, very, vivid hallucination.

Before standing up, I examined my body to find myself cut, bruised, and covered in red dots where something had clearly punctured my skin.

"Tracker Jackers!" I shout, realising what had caused the terrible hallucinations. Even though I was now back in the arena and alive, something didn't seem right. _Finn. _I jumped to my feet as fast as I could and began searching for my district partner and friend.

"Finn! Finn, where are you?" my voice stayed loud, even though there could be other tributes or mutants near by. "Finn! Please, answer me!"

Soon enough I stumbled upon a male with shaggy black hair who was covered in cuts and Tracker Jacker stings as well.

"Oh my God, Finn!" I quickly knelt beside him and began looking for any sign of life. My ear pressed against his chest. There was a heartbeat! He was still alive!

"Finn, wake up! Snap out of it!" I shook him harshly; he still didn't wake. "Sorry about this Finn."

My hand raised and swung across his face. Normally in the movies this worked, but Finn, he remained motionless.

My attention drew away from Finn when I heard a scream. The voice seemed extremely familiar, but I couldn't match it to a face. Without thinking, I began to drag Finn towards it. It took many minutes to drag him since he is much larger than myself.

When I arrived, I saw a small figure on the ground. It was slumped against a tree. The reddish orange hair made it clear on who this girl was. It was Delancy Lesyk from District 7. I set Finn down and began walking towards her. Before I could check to see if she was alive, she sat up. She rubbed her head as if something had hit there. When she saw me, she lowered her hand.

"Holly?"

I was a bit shocked by Delancy's sudden rising.

"Delancy, you're up!" my tone was a mix of confusion and excitement. Though, I did decide to stay back away from her since she was still recovering from what I'm guessing to be hallucinations. Once again she began rubbing her head. She began looking around surveying her surroundings.

"Um, yeah, I think so," when she sees the lifeless body lying at my feet, she begins to get a little on edge, "Is that Finn? What happened?"

"We were attacked. Right now we are all inside the ring of fire. Lots of different creatures came and attacked all four of the remaining tributes. I think the girl from 12 is dead. Luckily we survived."

Delancy had a confused look on her face. I couldn't tell where our conversation was going at all. "So, we're the only ones left?"

"Well, there is Finn. He's still alive. No cannon has gone off for him yet. But he is lying on the ground, unconscious. I couldn't wake him up."

Delancy now seemed extremely scared. I get that we are in an arena right now, but all commotion seemed to stop since the three remaining tributes were all within a couple feet of each other. Slowly she nods.

"I... um... I can't stay," she stands up and tries to walk away, but I grab her arm, stopping her.

"There is nowhere else you can go, Delancy. We are trapped in a ring of fire. If you leave, your chances of dying get higher."

She stays quiet. Her eyes glance over towards Finn, every now and then, but she doesn't leave.

"Try not to think of death or fighting. Right now the three of us need to focus on surviving. We can have a fair fight."

Delancy looked at me for a while, as if considering what I was saying, before nodding and walking over to Finn. "And, what about him? We'll carry him?"

I stare down at my district partner and friend. "I don't think we should move him anymore. He's passed out there. What do you think? Finn still has a pulse, so he is alive. His heartbeat is slowing, though."

Delancy's mouth opens as if to say something, but closes quickly. A look of anxiety flashed on her face.

"I think it would be easier if we just-", her voice trails off, "Uh! Never mind."

She shakes her head and looks down. I stand up and look down at her. My anger levels were rising rapidly.

"We aren't going to kill him! He's alive! Barely alive, but still, alive!" to cool myself down I breathed heavily before sitting down. Moments of silence go on before I peer up at Delancy. She has an unbelievably large scratch on her arm.

"Delancy! You're hurt! What happened?"

She tried to cover it up and hide it. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just from a fight earlier." I could see her shudder at the memory that now flooded her mind.

"Let me help you."

Unsure, she gives me her arm. I take a small pouch of medicine from my belt and uncap it.

"This is going to sting a little bit, sorry," gently, I applied some to her cut. She tensed up a bit, but refrained from moving her arm. Then I rip a small piece of sleeve from my shirt, so we can tie her wound up.

"There we go."

"Thanks," she still seemed a bit cautious, but I could tell she was honestly grateful.

"No problem. Once Finn wakes up, we can figure out what we are going to do, whatever that is."

"Holly, I know you don't want to hear this, but I still think we should kill him," her voice is quiet. Why would she bring up such an idea? I thought I was clear that it wasn't an option.

"No! Absolutely not! He's still alive!"

Delancy still pushes the idea. "If we don't kill him, then he will just keep suffering. Think of how much pain he is in right now! We should just take care of him ourselves!"

"The only possible good thing that could come out of that would be the fact that I have a better chance of going home to my father. But I'd also have to deal with the fact that I killed a friend. It's not worth it, Delancy!"

There is the noise of rustling leaves. Both Delancy and I turn to see Finn moving his arms and legs. His breathing is clearly heard now. Quickly, I run to him and Delancy follows. We pry him off of the ground.

"Finn! Finn, you're awake!" I can hardly contain my surprise as he opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings. Delancy is also in shock.

"How is that even possible?" even though she whispers, her words are still audible.

"Finn, are you okay?" I stare at him completely confused as to what I was seeing.

"I feel weak from the time I was paralysed, but..." Delancy decided to cut him off.

"Your eyes!" she's just as amazed as I am about Finn's condition.

He seems a bit confused. "Excuse me?"

"Finn, your eyes are gold! Completely coloured gold!" _What could have done that?_


	12. Hearing Voices

**A.N.: Firstly, I may have mentioned this in a previous author's note, but I didn't just cross over between several book series in my fan fiction, but also between two of my own fan fictions! CROSS-OVER OVERLOAD! ALL OF THEM FAN FICTIONS!**

**Secondly, I know it's been a long while since Finn's story has been updated, but have no fear, because my Finn Hartman writing groove is here! #CrushedIt**

"Come again?" I ask in confusion. _Did I hear that correctly?_

"Your eyes are entirely gold, Finn," Holly repeats. _Yes, I did._ "Your pupils and the white of your eyes are just gold, like bright luminescent gold. You're literally giving off gold light."

"From your eyes," the girl from District 7 adds with a grimace. That reminds me...

"Who are you?" I ask the fiery ginger from the lumber district.

"I'm Delancy Lesyk, District 7," Delancy introduces herself. _I see, but why are you not dead?_

"Finn Hartman, District 6," I offer her my hand and she shakes it ever so cautiously. I assume she thinks I'm going to kill her as soon as I get my strength back. She's not entirely wrong.

"Well, duh. Everyone knows you," she snickers. I squint my eyes, which are apparently glowing a golden colour, at her suspiciously, but then I remember my act from the Capitol.

I'm the cocky tribute boy from District 6! I outed myself during my interview with Jessica Maldiva and rallied the districts with my religious speech. Not to mention that I slew five tributes at the Cornucopia. It shouldn't surprise me that I'm just as infamous among my fellow tributes as I am to the whole of Panem.

"Hé, hé, don't change the subject here," Holly intervenes. "Your eyes are still gold, in a really freaky way."

"I suppose that's just a side-effect from when I neutralised the Tracker Jacker venom." Although I have to admit that this change of eye colour intrigues me just as much as it does Holly and Delancy.

"I've met plenty of people with Tracker Jacker stings back home, but none of them ever got gold eyes. Or were able to neutralise the venom," Delancy eyes me skeptically. _Well, none of them were me either._ More than likely, my rigorous Cult training was the key to my transformation and the vast reservoir of female ancestral memories that I now carry with me.

This springs up a new debate within me. Should I tell Holly and Delancy about my transformation? If I do, I have to come clean about my Cult background, but that could severely damage my reputation both in Panem and in Holly's eyes. She has come to know me as cocky, sarcastic Finn and not the highly-trained Cult member out to destroy the Capitol. No, I have to tell her! She deserves as much after all we've been through.

Besides, if the Gamemakers are still hellbent on killing me in the arena, I need to get the truth about my transformation to the Cult asap and the cameras broadcasting us 24/7 are the ideal way. As the first Reverend Mother since the Dark Days, if that really is what I am, I'm morally obliged to share this knowledge. _Well, here goes nothing._

"I have a confession to make," I start. I observe Holly and Delancy closely as curiosity and suspicion flash across their faces.

"What is it, Finn?" Holly asks.

"I've not been entirely honest with you. You see, my family has been part of an underground religious society for...well...generations," _and then some_, "called the Cult."

"You're part of a cult?" she gasps.

"Please, let me finish. The Cult seeks to overthrow the Capitol and unite the districts," not entirely true, but I'll roll with it, "To do so, it trains its members extensively and pushes them to their limits, so that they are the ultimate fighting machine. They need to be such excellent fighters because, during each Hunger Games, the Cult sends in one of its own members. This year, it was my turn."

I let that sink in before I say anything else. Holly and Delancy process all the information I gave them, after which Delancy asks in a puzzled tone:

"So, how does that explain your golden eyes?"

"One of the many things the Cult taught me is extreme muscle and nerve control: I can control even the tiniest muscle in my body. This extreme control of my muscles and nerves allowed me to focus on the Tracker Jacker venom in my blood and neutralise it, which somehow also triggered something else. For another side-effect was that I experienced all the memories of all my female ancestors. Within those memories I found out what I have become: a Reverend Mother..."

"Don't you mean Reverend Father?" Holly interrupts. She has puckered her brow.

"No, 'Reverend Mother' is how the Bene Gesserit – the predecessor of the Cult – called Sisters, or Cult members if you will, who survived the Agony. I believe that the combination of the Tracker Jacker and Atlas moth venoms made me go through a similar Agony. So, now I'm able to access the memories of all my female ancestors."

"What. The. Fuuuuuck," Delancy whispers. She peers to Holly next to her, but she has her gaze locked on me. Her expression is blank.

"How do we know you're telling the truth? What if this is just another lie?" she asks after a long pause.

"Or if you've just gone insane?" Delancy adds for good measure. _She sure has a great deal of trouble trusting me._ What upsets me more, though, is that Holly has lost faith in me. Yet with all the knowledge at my disposal, I don't know how to win it back.

"I don't know how to prove I'm not lying, or insane, but I'm open to suggestions," I respond honestly. That takes them aback, probably because they expected another monologue from me. They purse their lips, think for a while and then Holly blurts out:

"Languages!"

"What?" Delancy and I ask simultaneously.

"Languages! If you can access the memories of all your female ancestors, you're bound to have loads of ancestors who speak different languages. Just say something in a dead language."

"If you insist..." I sigh. I close my eyes, steady my breathing and submerge myself in the endless ocean of memories within me. I carefully paddle through lives, skipping English-speaking ancestors. As it turns out, I have to paddle a very long way, centuries back even. Yet I manage to find something.

"Je pense, donc je suis," I murmur, mimicking the voice pattern of my French-speaking ancestor.

"What was that?" Holly asks.

"Je pense, donc je suis," I repeat louder this time. "It's French, said by some famous philosopher. It translates to 'I think, so I am'."

"Je pense, donc je suis," Holly repeats with a terrible accent, but then she snorts. "That's beautiful, really. I guess you're speaking the truth then. Alrighty, let's find some food and water because I'm starving after all this."

We get up, but I quickly slump back to the ground since my feet haven't been used in days. Holly swiftly comes to my aid, though, and supports me as we stumble out of this small forest within the Hunger Games arena. Back on the open plains and meadows, I try to stand on my own and after some awkward failed attempts, causing Holly and Delancy to roar with laughter, I manage to support my own weight.

While we stroll through the flowery meadows with fluttering butterflies, I start pointing out animals and plants, and naming them from my seemingly endless memory. The girls allow me to show off my newfound knowledge for about five minutes until they both tell me to "Cram it!"

However, I can't stop the flow of memories that continuously washes over me. Whenever something familiar pops up, my ancestors supply me with a memory in which they encountered it. This simultaneous stream of memories distracts me enough to make me bump against a tree, which, for the record, are few and far between on the plains. Again Holly and Delancy roar with laughter.

Eventually, we come across a pond. In fact, it's the first pond we've seen since the start of the Games; Holly and I have been drinking water from small creeks for the past week. We immediately bend down and gulp down handfuls of water. Once we've quenched our thirst, I observe the area around the pond.

"This seems like a good place to stay. Let's make camp here," I declare leaving no room for objections. Holly and Delancy decide to look for wood for a fire, which we can light now that the three remaining tributes sort of form a team, while I offer to fish.

"Fishing, you?" Holly scoffs.

"I'll have you know, my Native American ancestors lived off of the sea and fished for much larger prey than fish in a pond," I retort. Delancy rolls her eyes, but Holly just shakes her head chuckling.

I take off my black boots, pull up my khaki trousers and dip into the pond. I already find something edible near the bank: the seaweed I tasted at the edible plants and insects station. The seaweed makes me remember Vexare, the girl from 12 whose white blouse I ruined when I accidentally spilled seaweed on it. She died right before my eyes; a mutated wolf bit her. I blink the tears away that started to form and scoop up the seaweed.

As I scoop it up, I catch sight of my reflection in the water. _By the Great Mother, my eyes! _Holly and Delancy weren't kidding! I'm giving off bright light through my eyes, which are saturated with gold. However, I don't simply notice the golden colour. When I gaze into the bright luminescent pools of my eyes, I see history staring back at me. I suddenly feel a thousand years old.

I shake my head and wade further into the pond. Instructed by the memories of my Native American ancestors, I manage to snatch several fish from the water. Since my raven woollen cloak is tattered anyway, I knot it into a deep sling, attach it to my right arm and stock my fish in the bulge of the sling. I bet my mentor Anthony is so proud that I paid attention at the knotting station.

"Finn!" I hear Holly call. I glance at the bank, but I see Holly has her back turned to me. As a matter of fact, she doesn't look like she called out to me either; she's just collecting branches. Now that I think about it, that call also didn't sound like Holly at all.

"Finn," the voice calls again. It's a woman's voice that sounds sultry and educated. I hear it close by, but I can't seem to determine its point of origin.

_That's because it's inside your head_, the woman's voice grumbles. I stiffen and drop my arms to the side of my body, causing a fish or two to escape. _I'm hearing voices. Am I sure I haven't gone insane?_ I think

_You're not going insane, but if you continue to ignore me, you might_, the woman snickers smugly inside my mind.

"Who are you and how did you get inside my head?" I ask slightly panicking.

_My name is Embry Call and I believe that also answers the second part of your question_, Embry responds complacently. Embry Call was the strongest of my Bene Gesserit ancestors. She was the one who ran with wolves, married who she wanted despite the Sisterhood's orders, gave birth to thirteen children and became a Reverend Mother.

_Indeed, and it's that last fact that concerns you, Finn_, Embry explains. _I'm going to guide you and help you understand your new powers and abilities as a Reverend Mother._

I scoff. "Are you like my guardian angel? My conscience talking to me?"

_Don't mock me, boy_, she threatens. _I'm the only one keeping the others at bay._

"The others?"

As soon as I ask that, I sense Embry's presence disappearing and new voices start talking. A lot of them. Hundreds upon hundreds of women start jabbering away in my mind and I feel like my head is about to explode, until they suddenly go quiet again.

_Your other female ancestors who are all dying to tell you their life's story_, Embry answers cynically. _The aftermath of the Agony is a very confusing time for any Reverend Mother, so consider my guidance my gift to you as your distant grandmother._

"So hearing voices, not just yours, is normal for Reverend Mothers?" I ask anxiously. I don't think I could bear hearing some centuries-old mother chattering away in my head all day every day.

_Yes, but the voices will mostly offer advice, _she reassures me._ Here's some for example: stop talking to yourself out loud, unless you want to convince miss Lesyk that you've gone insane._

"What?" I whirl around and peer at the bank, where I see Delancy stare at me. She quickly looks down when she notices my gaze. _How did you know that?_ I think.

_I've been observing everything through your eyes since you opened them. We all have, _she adds darkly. _Now, how were you able to unlock your Other Memory?_

_Other Memory?_

_Yes, that "vast reservoir of female ancestral memories" that you are now able to dip into for useful information. Though, I should warn you: if you venture too deep into your Other Memory, you could lose your own identity and drown._

_Well, that's encouraging, _I scoff mentally.

_Other Memory is a valuable tool, but it should never be played with like a toy. As for my question... _Embry pushes impatiently.

_I'm not entirely sure how I unlocked my 'Other Memory'. I think it has something to do with the Tracker Jacker and Atlas moth venoms, but..._

_Yes, yes, poisons and venoms are a key element to the Agony, but what I really want to know is how _you_ survived it?_

_Because I'm left-handed? _I guess.

She snorts. _Please, it takes more than the left-handed advantage to survive the Agony and you know it just as well as I do. No, something within your genes enabled you to become a Reverend Mother, which, as a man, you should never have been able to._

_Why not? _I ask, naive to the obvious reason why not.

_Because men don't survive the Agony. Ever_, she pauses,_ Unless..._

I feel Embry's presence slipping away again and the voices breach through once more, but now they cheer in unison. The Bene Gesserit within me stir as they adopt the cheer one by one.

_Kwisatz Haderach! Kwisatz Haderach! Kwisatz Haderach! Kwisatz Haderach!_

Yet one shrill woman's voice yells above all the others:

_Fools! He's a man who survived the Agony, but he can't access his male memory! He's an Abomination!_

This sends a massive panic wave through my Other Memory. Chaos ensues within my mind.

_Abomination! Abomination! Abomination! Abomination! _the terrified Bene Gesserit Sisters shriek in my thoughts, overloading all my senses. Luckily, Embry's omnipotent presence resurfaces and the screeches die down.

_I believe that concludes our introduction to Other Memory. Go on now, your friends are waiting_, Embry spurs me on. I wade back to the bank of the pond with the fish in my cloak/sling and join Holly and Delancy around the fire they already started. They seem to be in a heated discussion, but they fall silent when I approach.

"Everything alright?" I ask as I sit down near the modest fire. Holly wants to speak, but Delancy beats her to it:

"Yup, all is right as rain."

_Lie_, Embry sneers. I don't let the two girls notice my distress over Embry's comment and simply show them the fish I caught, but mentally I'm bewildered.

_What do you mean 'lie'?_ I ask suspiciously.

_I was a Truthsayer when I was alive_, she explains. _I'm more accurate than a polygraph test and I'm telling you now, my dear descendant, that girl is lying through her teeth!_

**A.N: Thank you for your patience and your support! I hope you continue to read Finn's story because he's really one of my favourite main characters. I'll also try to update every week from now on, sometimes in collaboration with other authors. Anyway, if you enjoyed it, let me know in the comments; I read them all ;)**

**With love,**

**Enchantednuns xx**


	13. The Untimely Demise of Delancy Lesyk

**A.N.: Delancy's POV, the bulk of this chapter, was written by AwesoMEbeing_ on Wattpad. Thank you for your help; it was beautiful :')  
**

**POV Delancy**

I volunteer to take first watch, watching as Holly and Finn settle in for the night. It's not like watching is needed, anyway. Not much is happening in the arena anymore. The highlight of the day is the ring of fire, and from what I can see, the ring of fire is occurring somewhere else far off to our right.

I close my eyes as a soft wind blows past, feeling its coldness against my skin, making our fire flicker a bit. I take my backpack off and rummage through it, taking out the container with beef jerky inside and eating small chunks of it. I'm quite surprised that there's still a generous amount left for me to last for about five more days here.

Going along with Holly and Finn is good so far. They're kind and trustworthy people. I feel quite a bit easier with them now, but I know it wouldn't be that way for long. Some time we'll have to let one die in order for the remaining two to get closer to winning – and surviving. Then, not long after that, there should be only one left standing. I know I'm worthy enough to be one of the remaining two. Holly and Finn have both done their best too; they completely know what they're doing.

I hear leaves crunching beside me and I quickly spring up and spin around, fists ready, but it is just Holly. She has a surprised look on her face, though it quickly turns into a smile.

I lower down my hands as she sits down next to my spot earlier. She then looks up at me, her eyes reflecting off the moonlight, and pats the spot next to her.

"I'll take watch now. Go rest."

Resting's not really on my mind right now. What would I need it for if there's no action happening now? I sit down a few inches beside her, bringing my knees up to my chest. She glances at me and opens her mouth to speak. I pretend not to notice her about to say something and beat her to it: "Would you mind if I just sit here? I really don't wanna sleep yet."

She shrugs, a smile lighting up her face. "I won't mind. I don't mind at all."

"So what do you think will happen next?" I ask, staring out at the vast area around us.

She glances at me again. "I wish the Gamemakers would make an exception and accept three Victors. I mean, how'd we expect one of us to die if nothing's happening here?"

I shrug. "Hunger?"

"Geez, that's really not how I want to die."

I nod. _Same with me, I guess._

Just when we go quiet, I feel a soft tremble. I look at Holly, and it looks like she felt it too. Her eyes are wide as she observes our surroundings. Even though the answer's obvious, I ask:

"Did you feel that?"

She nods. "Yeah."

"Earthquake?"

"Couldn't be, but still, probably it is."

I feel a bit confused with her choice of words, but the confusion quickly vanishes when there's another tremble in the ground. It's stronger than the first, and it's strong enough to wake Finn up.

"What is it?" he asks from behind us.

"An earthquake probably, but we're not quite sure," Holly says as she stands up and offers a hand to help me up. I take it and stand up too.

"Well, we better search for some open space," Finn states, making me look around at the clump of trees around us and the mountain near our area.

Holly and I nod before quickly putting back everything we pulled out of our bags. Finn leads us through the forest, occasionally stopping as he seems to be thinking of something. His eyes narrow and his brow furrows. I wonder what's going on in his mind. He always seems to be in deep thought.

He looks at us, then continues leading us through the forest, running past trees and bushes. The ground is trembling stronger now. It's so strong that we have to stop running for a while to steady ourselves. The rows of trees seem to be endless, and I can't tell where Finn is seeing this 'open space'. I pause to catch my breath as I lean down on my knees.

"Do you know exactly where we're going, Finn?"

As I expect, he nods. I just asked to point out that I don't think we're making progress. I don't see signs of a clearing anywhere around us. I look at Finn and, once again, he has a distant – yet concentrated – look on his face. I shake my head and try to ignore him.

The ground shakes, and it's strong enough to throw Holly and me out of balance. I hear a soft cracking sound, but I'm too preoccupied with orienting myself that I don't have time to look.

"Holly, watch out!" Finn shouts, his one palm leaning on a tree beside him while the other is outstretched towards her. I immediately turn around to see Holly teetering off the edge of a gap in the ground. I rush to steady her. She mumbles a shaky "thanks" before looking down at the large gap. There are flames inside.

"Is this where the ring of fire comes from?" I ask, my eyes glued to the dancing flames below. The two are too occupied at gazing down the crack.

"I guess so," Holly sighs, crossing her arms. I sigh too. _Looks like we're going to have to deal with these cracks too._

Another violent earthquake is all it takes to make us realise how much time we're losing. Finn looks at us, immediately taking the lead.

"Come on, my instincts tell me there's a clearing over there."

Even if I'm not sure he's sure of what he's saying, I follow. I don't have anywhere to go anyway. I think it's better to go with other tributes now.

The ground shakes again, and it causes another crack to appear in the ground, just before Holly, separating us from Finn. There's another shake, and the crack opens, revealing flames inside it. Holly and I step back, but the ground shakes again and the earth beneath our feet collapses. We scream and fight to find anything to grab onto. I manage to grab onto a small protruded rock from the rock wall, just beside Holly, but a bit below. My head's in level with her hips.

My arms are shaking, but I do my best to keep holding. I look up above and see Finn rush to peek down at us. He yells:

"Just...Just stay put! I'll find a way to get you up!"

Holly also managed to hold onto some protruded rocks near the mouth of the crack. I know that she's just within Finn's arm reach, but I don't think he can do it by himself to pull both of us up.

It isn't long before Finn returns, throwing down a long vine towards us. I can reach it, but I can't let go of the rock. I'm scared I'll fail to reach it.

From above, I see Holly quickly grab hold of it and start climbing up. I gulp and slowly let one of my hands let go of its grip on the rock and reach for the thick vine. When I manage to firmly hold onto it, the earth shakes again, making my hand – which is holding onto the rock – slip. My eyes widen as I tighten my grip on the vine, sliding down a bit before throwing up my other arm to also hold onto it.

"Delancy!" I hear Holly shout. I look up to see her and Finn reaching down for me, but I'm too far out of their reach. I look down at the flames and immediately feel their heat when I do.

"We'll hoist you up," Finn says. I nod and tighten my grip on the vine. Images of the Capitol people grinning suddenly flash in my mind and I flinch. They know that the Games are already coming closer to two tributes left. I'm sure that I'm the one who dies, because in our situation right now, who else?

I feel them pulling me up, and I feel the heat lessen. I slowly start to calm down since I'm halfway up, but then the Gamemakers are just too cruel.

The earth shakes again, and I swear this one is the strongest. I see Holly and Finn stumble and accidentally let go of the vine, but luckily, they have it tied to something else up there, so I don't completely fall, but my hands slip from the vine.

My breath gets caught in my throat and I struggle to grab onto anything again, but I can't. I am falling. The heat rises and all I can think of are the Capitol people's amused smirks and the cannon sound.

My arms are wildly flailing around me as I see rocks also falling down the crack, probably going to crush me to death. I wonder what my mother and my dad are thinking right now as I feel the flames engulf me.

**POV Finn**

The trembling subsides as the earth closes up above the sight of Delancy Lesyk falling into the flames. A cannon fires and the female tribute of District 7 is dead. _And then there were two._

"Delancy!" Holly cries out as she punches the ground. I get up and brush off the dirt from my clothes. I gaze at the exact spot where Delancy fell through and feel a cynical anger flaring.

"Those rotten Gamemakers," I grumble. Holly looks up to me, tears spilling from her eyes.

"What do we do now?" she asks in a shaky voice. "Do we have to kill each other?"

_You know you have to_, Embry Call, my Bene Gesserit 'guardian angel' and distant ancestor, says in my mind.

_I won't. I can't and I won't, and neither you, nor the Capitol can force me to kill my district partner and friend_, I sneer.

She chuckles darkly. _Then what will you do?_

I suddenly become acutely aware of the cold, silver gom jabbar, my family's poisonous snake-shaped needle, constraint around my left index finger. It gives me an idea.

"No," I tell Holly in a determined voice, "we will end this, but on our own terms."


	14. Game Over

Glittering in eternal, soft shafts of sunlight, the Cornucopia stands at the centre of the arena. 24 metal pedestals surround it in a concentric circle, and between them and the large central structure all sorts of supplies lie scattered on the ground. The grass is still stained with dried-up coppery pools of blood.

_A criminal always returns to the scene of the crime_, Embry smirks. Well, I can't tell if she's actually smirking, but her complacent tone makes me think she is. Day twelve: I'm still hearing my Bene Gesserit ancestor's voice in my head.

"I wish we didn't have to come back here," Holly remarks reluctantly as she folds her arms over her chest. She looks even more fragile than usual now.

"This is where it all started; this is where we'll end it all," I remind her. Holly had had more than a few remarks about the Cornucopia. The distance, for one, as we had wandered all the way to a mountain south of the arena. Secondly, and most importantly, the trauma suffered here when nine tributes died on the first day. And, of course, the fact that we could do this anywhere in the arena since cameras are pretty much omnipresent.

"Technically, this all started back in District 6," she offers. I turn to her and see her quivering in her boots. _She's terrified!_

_What did you expect? There is no precedent of two Victors. Why are you so sure the Gamemakers will accept you both?_ Valorie Garnett asks. Valorie is my paternal grandmother and a Hunger Games Victor too, so she knows the limitations of the Games just as well as Holly and I do. After Embry revealed herself in my mind, other ancestors slowly started talking to me as well and Valorie offered plenty of advice for today.

_Because there is also no precedent of zero Victors_, I respond. It's a weak defense, but it's all I have to hold onto. _Just like Delancy only had a rock to hold onto, but fell to her death anyway_, I think.

_I'm sorry for your loss, but it's no excuse to act like an idiot_, Valorie grunts. _Your mentor already told you the Gamemakers are out to destroy you; why give them another reason to send you flying ten feet in the air?_

Instead of replying, I choose to ignore her and focus back on the task at hand, which will be daunting as is without my ancestors doubting me. I gently place a hand on Holly's shoulder, squeeze it lightly as I smile reassuringly, and guide her closer to the Cornucopia.

"Are you sure this'll work?" she whispers nervously. _Don't you start doubting me too_, I sigh mentally.

"I'm not, but it's the best chance we got."

"You could always just..."

"Don't you dare!" I snarl. "I'm not going to kill you and if you're thinking about suicide, I suggest you think about something else, like butterflies."

"Sure, those'll distract me from my imminent death," she mutters. I chuckle, more out of nervousness than anything, but I'm happy she can still joke about our situation.

We're about halfway between the metal pedestals and the Cornucopia when I let go of Holly's shoulder and take one more step forward. I gaze at the blue sky and its fluffy rosy clouds, as if I expected the Gamemakers to have accepted two Victors already and would project both our names in the sky. _Fat chance._

"Citizens of Panem, there are only two of us left, but we refuse to kill one another. We have become friends and neither of us could live with the ramifications of killing the other. Please, end these Games and let us return home...the both of us," I call out to the empty sky, which, unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, stays empty.

"At least you tried," Holly shrugs as I growl and mutter something under my breath aimed at the Gamemakers. _I've tried the easy way, now it's time for the hard way._

"If that's how it's going to be...very well. If you can't allow two Victors, we won't provide you with _any_ Victors," I snap my arm out to Holly like a striking rattlesnake and stretch my left index finger. A long, tiny needle shoots out from my silver gom jabbar mere inches away from Holly's jugular. Her eyes widen at the sight of the poisonous needle.

"Wow, that looks mighty dangerous," she swallows hard.

"It is," I turn to the still empty sky again. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you: the gom jabbar! A needle dipped in one of the most lethal poisons known to man. I only need to prick Holly once and she'll die within seconds."

"Finn..." Holly stammers. _Not now, there's no turning back after this._

"If you still can't accept two Victors, I will prick her and afterwards, I will kill myself by shutting my body down. My transformation has granted me that ability, which I'll prove to you right now."

I focus on my body's inner chemistry and make the necessary biological changes. A cannon sounds, which causes Holly to freak out.

"O my God, Finn!" she ducks past the gom jabbar and twists me around by the shoulder, but when she sees my amused expression, she's baffled. "You're okay?"

"Yes, Holly," I chuckle. "I just blocked the tracker in my arm. It monitors our heartbeat, remember?"

She breathes a sigh of relief, but then her eyes widen again. She puts a hand on my cheek and pushes my face back to the sky above the Cornucopia. My eyes widen too as I see a hovercraft dangling above us. Its cargo hatch opens, showing us two Peacekeepers beside a mechanical arm, which they use to collect the tributes' dead bodies.

"Where's his body? His tracker told us...", one of the Peacekeepers shouts above the roar of the hovercraft's engines, "Ah, son of a...he's still alive! Retreat, reactivate the cloaking shield!"

Thus, the hovercraft disappears from our sight in a shimmer. I snort, but then I throw my head back laughing as I realise their mistake. They probably weren't following the broadcast and just went off on the signal of my tracker.

_How embarrassing_, Valorie snickers in my mind. I didn't expect the Capitol to mess up so badly, but this definitely proves my ability.

"I believe that underlines the accuracy of my claim," I smirk at the empty, rosy sky. "Gamemakers, you have exactly five minutes to mull over our proposal: two Victors or none. Choose wisely."

My cockiness soon fades, though, as our five minutes tick by and no announcements follow. The arena stays eerily quiet, with only the humming sound of insects and the calm waves of grass swaying in the wind to be heard. As each minute passes, I grow more and more agitated, afraid even.

"Finn," Holly says when the five minutes have passed, "time's up. They didn't listen."

"No, they're just busy. They have to ask for President Snow's permission because they can't just allow two Victors. Yes, that must be it! They're just tied up in bureaucracy, you know..."

"Finn," she interrupts, "five minutes have come and gone. You warned them of what we would do. They knew the stakes. They'd rather have no Victors than lose face, that much is clear. It's high time we ended it, for real."

It's ironic how in the face of death the fragile, once anxious girl is telling the usually composed, cocky Cult member to surrender. There's a part of me desperately hoping the Capitol will still accept two Victors, while a different part of me knows my battle is over, a lost cause.

"I did not train my whole life just to end it myself because I can't beat the system," my voice cracks and I croak, "For the love of the Great Mother, I saw Ian die on Live television, I killed half a dozen Peacekeepers, I suffered through every ridiculous Capitol ceremony, I outed myself to the entire country, I slew five tributes, I became a freaking Reverend Mother! This can't be it!"

The fear of death has got hold of me and now I'm mortified. I refuse to throw in the towel after everything I've done and gone through. _It can't end this way, it simply can't!_ I scream internally.

"I get that this must be hard for you, but I'm not exactly excited to die either. You're not alone in this, Finn," Holly squeezes my shoulders comfortingly. "I've got your back, buddy."

I observe her face through the golden haze of my eyes and see nothing but sympathy in her gentle features. Yet my fighter mentally remains stubborn.

"I don't want to die," I shake my head, tears welling up. "I'm afraid, Holly."

"So am I, but that's normal. We're all afraid. We are born afraid and we die afraid. What you're experiencing is raw, human emotion. Savour it," she chuckles. "And look at it this way: now you'll get to see Ian again in heaven, or whatever your Cult believes in."

_Ian_, his name lingers and triggers so many happy, but also sad memories, all my own this time around. She's right. Even though I swore to avenge him, winning the Hunger Games and destroying the Capitol won't bring Ian back. Nothing will. However, when I die, I won't have to feel the pain anymore that his death caused me. It would all be over, like a blissful, eternal dream or an empty, timeless void.

"You're right. Look at me, blubbering and whining about _my_ problems, while you're going to die just as well. Aren't I a self-centered jerk?" I sniff.

"Just a little," she says as she parts her thumb and index finger an inch. We face each other and I stretch my left index finger again, which reactivates the gom jabbar's poisonous needle.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

"Wait," she looks up to the sky and calls out, "Dad, I love you! Try not to cry too much over me, okay? Just like Finn, I'm going to a better place. I'll get to see Mom again, and the rest of our family too. Jasmine, bestie, you were like a sister to me. Please, comfort my dad when I'm gone. It would mean the world to me. Thanks for everything!"

She turns back to me, small tears glistening on her cheeks, but she's smiling. "Now I'm ready."

I'm just about to prick her when I hesitate and turn to the sky too. "Mom, I...I just want to say..." _What do I want to say?_

_You don't have to say a thing, my son, _my mother's voice reassures me in my head. _I already know._

"...I wish I could have been a better son to you," I sigh, "Oh and Anthony, I'm sorry I betrayed your trust. I guess I didn't know how to beat the Gamemakers after all. Please, don't be mad at me, you goofy gorilla."

Holly and I chuckle, while tears stream down our faces. I straighten up and aim my gom jabbar at Holly again.

"Is it going to hurt?" she asks.

"It will, I'm not going to lie, but it works fast, so it'll only take a few seconds. It certainly beats stabbing yourself in the gut and slowly bleeding out."

"Yeah, poison sounds better. Okay, do it." I close my eyes, take a deep breath, steady my finger and strike.

"STOP!" a voice booms over the arena. I freeze my finger mid-motion, open my eyes and turn to the voice's point of origin: Claudius Templesmith's powdered face fills the sky with his digitalised image.

"Panem, may I present to you the _Victors_ of the 74th annual Hunger Games: Holly Jones and Finn Hartman, District 6!" he announces in a shaky voice. Next to him, a Live feedback shows Holly and I facing each other, and boy, do we look worse for wear! Catilina's probably shuddering at the sight of my threadbare clothes.

From a distance, the national anthem starts to play, disrupting the silence of the meadowy arena. Next, the projection of Claudius Templesmith fades from the sky and the ground beneath the Cornucopia starts to tremble. _No, not again!_

Yet it's no earthquake that rumbles from below. A patch of grass the size of a small swimming pool tilts downwards, which forms a ramp going down to the changing and tube rooms underneath the Cornucopia. Then a mountain of a man lumbers up the grassy ramp.

_Mmm, I like a man I can climb_, Mom purrs inside my mind. _What an age you live in_, Embry giggles appreciatively. Soon a rampage of horny women's voices cackles in my thoughts.

_Calm down, spinster_s, I call my female ancestors to order. _You're all mothers; don't act like you've never seen a man before._

"A goofy gorilla, huh?" Anthony Kingston, my mentor, guffaws. "You're lucky you were still in this arena or I would have come up and popped your golden-eyed head off myself!"


	15. You Will Pay

I take a sip from my crystal glass of pomegranate juice. The blood-red liquid flows down my thirsty throat and sends pleasantly chilly waves through my stomach. The drink would be a lot more pleasant, though, if it hadn't been spiked with a lethal poison.

"Hmm, poison. That's the third time this week," I smack my lips noisily. Thanks to the new cellular control of my body, I can neutralise any poison or venom that enters my body, so these petty assassination attempts of the Capitol naturally fail every time.

"Finn, are you even listening?" Anthony scolds me. I look up from my poisoned drink and gaze indifferently at my mentor.

"Yes, yes, act nice, smile, try not to start another riot," I wave dismissively. "I get your concerns, Anthony, but it's too late for me to back down now. My secret's out and I've caused the Capitol enough embarrassment to last them another 74 years."

He sighs. "At least don't bother Jessica Maldiva too much tonight at the interview, okay? Her head may role too if she messes up your interview."

Tonight is our last night in the Capitol, which means Holly and I have our final interview with Jessica Maldiva. It has been two weeks since we won the Hunger Games as the Gamemakers gave us time to recover from the arena. Our burns and stings have miraculously been healed, we've been washed and scrubbed until our skin was raw, and we've been fattened up to look like the picture of health again.

As with the previous interview, my stylist and my prep team are grooming me for the one tonight, while Anthony delivers his final pointers. Thus, Arminius is trimming the split ends of my hair, while Eleonor waxes my legs, yet again. I've never understood the Capitol's fascination with bare skin. Maybe they're really fond of Sphynx cats? Catilina, on the other hand, the unwavering supervisor that she is, oversees my prep team's work and delegates her orders.

"I don't think the people of Panem would notice the difference if she lost her head," I respond to Anthony before I sip from my pomegranate juice again, "let alone care."

"Finn!" Catilina gasps.

"Don't have a cow, Catilina, it was only a joke," I reassure her. Ever since I returned from the arena, my stylist has been walking on eggshells. Nearly anything I say causes her to gasp or stiffen.

"Maybe you should joke less and be more concerned about our safety, especially yours and Holly's. You just said you were poisoned for the third time," she reminds me.

"Yes, but why would President Snow try to poison Holly? She has done nothing wrong, except for befriending me, and killing her would only enrage me more, which is the exact opposite of what Snow wants. Killing me, however, ..."

"Would make you a martyr, which he especially doesn't want," Anthony finishes.

"Then why is he poisoning me?" I ask bewildered.

_To call your bluff_, Embry answers in my thoughts.

"He's probably testing if poison really can't harm you," Anthony guesses.

_Told you_, Embry chimes.

"Then tell him to come over and see for himself because converting his poison arsenal one by one is starting to annoy me," I sip once more from my drink, "Which reminds me, fire the Avox that brought this pomegranate juice. I ordered extra pulp, not poison."

* * *

After Arminius and Eleonor have finished their work, I shower to get rid of any remaining wax and shampoo my hair thoroughly. When I'm done, I wrap a towel around my waist and stride to my bedroom chaperoned by a waff of passion fruit. On the bed lies a navy blue pilot costume. For the final interview Catilina and Atlas Ivory, Holly's stylist, decided to stay classy.

I put on the white shirt, the black tie, the navy blue jacket with gold buttons and golden-striped wrists, the wide navy blue pants, and the shiny black shoes. Lastly, there's a navy blue pilot cap with a black visor, a golden frame, and a gold winged pin. The pin is the same as the one attached to the chest of my jacket: a locomotive with a bold six underneath.

Before I can don the cap, though, I hear something from behind me. I whirl around to face Bestia waiting patiently by my bedroom door. She's desperately trying to avoid eye contact with me.

"Is there something you needed, Bestia?" I ask the Capitol-born Cult spy.

"Catilina sent me to check if you're dressed. She has the cloak you asked her to design," she gazes up meaningfully. The first thing I told Catilina after I had returned was to design a cloak to the specifications I required. When she had looked over said specifications, she asked in a puzzled way:

"Why would you need such a cloak? You just left the arena!"

_You'll find out soon enough, my feline compatriot_, I think.

"Well, I'm fully-dressed, so you can let her in," I tell Bestia.

"As the Reverend Mother wishes," she bows piously before leaving to fetch my stylist. Bestia's attitude toward me changed drastically upon my return. Instead of glaring or feeding me the High Priestess' orders, she has devoted herself entirely to my service. I'm still unsure if it pleases me.

When Bestia returns, she enters with Catilina and Anthony in her wake. Catilina's carrying my new cloak and visibly struggling to sustain its weight. She hands it to me with an audible puff.

"There we go," she pants. "A cloak tailored to your specifications, although your reasons behind it are beyond me."

"Thank you for your efforts, Catilina," I thank her. I lift the cloak up and down a bit to get a feel of its weight and quickly determine that it's significantly heavier than Catilina's marvelous night's sky cloak. I then swoop it over my shoulders and clasp it onto my pilot suit before donning my cap. The weight of the cloak strains my neck and shoulders and pulls at them uncomfortably.

"How do I look?" I ask.

"Off. That black cloak clashes with your navy blue suit, not to mention your luminescent gold eyes," Anthony remarks.

"Who made you the fashion police?" I retort.

"Perhaps we should give you a pair of sunglasses?" Catilina proposes while she plays with her whiskers, looking all the more like a giant kitty-cat.

"I will not cover my eyes," I declare, "and my cloak stays!"

"Why, though? What's so important about this one that you can't wear your regular one?" Anthony questions. _There it is: the million dollar question._ It's impossible for me to explain why because it could endanger their lives. Then again, if I don't tell them anything, they may die either way.

_Sometimes sacrifices need to be made_, Embry notes, _although no one said you had to tell them everything. A simple warning would suffice._

"I think you should leave the Capitol," I tell Bestia, Catilina, and Anthony.

"What?" Catilina and Anthony utter in harmony. Bestia, on the other hand, remains indifferent, but since she's in on it, that's not surprising.

"You need to leave the Capitol," I repeat, "at once. Only for tonight. Or at least stay away from the Training Center and the Victor's stage."

"But tonight you'll have your final interview, and I just made you that new cloak you wanted," Catilina pouts.

"Tonight's interview is not the place, nor the time for you to receive praise, Catilina. Trust me!" I urge her, releasing the full force of my golden eyes on her. Her resistance withers away like the autumn leaves of a tree.

"Very well," she mutters reluctantly. "I take it that means I must bid your farewell already."

"Farewell, Catilina. I can honestly say I'll never forget you."

* * *

Anthony and I take the lift down together and he leads me into the training area beneath the Training Center, which has been cleared of stations and weaponry. Now it only has a glass tube just like the waiting room of the arena. The training area seems oddly smaller than before until I notice a plywood wall dividing it in two. Anthony notices my gaze and explains:

"Since this is the first time we have two Victors, they had to place two separate tubes. Holly's on the other side, don't worry."

Then he pats me on the back, wishes me good luck and leaves me alone in the empty room. I leisurely stroll about the training area until I hear the lift doors opening again. I turn to the metal doors and see three people leaving them: two Peacekeepers who flank an old, white-haired man. Three generations of Panem women start to panic inside my mind as they recognise the man who has ruled them for several decades: President Snow!

President Snow is small and thin, and has thick lips, snake-like eyes and paper-white, neatly combed and trimmed hair. He's wearing an expensive suit in shades of dark blue, black, white and grey, and an immaculate white rose in his lapel.

As he nears me – his Peacekeeper bodyguard (a man and a woman) closely beside him –, a strong scent of roses forces its way into my nostrils. Keeping my gaze locked on the President is all I can do to keep from gagging at the sickeningly sweet smell of roses. Snow and his guards halt about two feet away from me.

"I believe congratulations are in order," the President says. He has a rather deep voice with a slight rasp, but that's not the most notable thing. As soon as he spoke, the coppery smell of blood mixed with the overpowering scent of roses, which makes for a terribly unpleasant combination.

"Thank you, mister President," I nod trying very hard not to cover my mouth and nose.

"It seems you have put on quite a show for us these past two weeks, although ratings were among the lowest of all Hunger Games," he smiles ever so faintly. His snake eyes remain ice cold, though.

"Being unconscious for several days will do that to ratings," I return the icy smile.

"Yes," he mutters. "I do hope you have no further surprises install for us." _Does he know?!_

_Calm down, Finn_, Embry cautions me. _He's gauging your reaction, just like he has been probing into your abilities this past week. Now it's your turn to call his bluff._

"Does our President have anything in mind?" I wonder, my voice even.

He stares at me coolly. I feel like I'm getting frostbite just by looking at his snake eyes.

"Nothing in particular," he concedes at last, "but I must warn you, I'm not fond of surprises."

"Well, your family must have difficulties then planning your birthday party."

"My family has nothing to do with this," he replies curtly. "Your family, however, … A part of an underground religious society, you said?"

"Yes, for generations," I add with a smile. _What is he getting at?_

He nods. "So I've heard. A cult whose goal it was to bring down the Capitol by winning the Hunger Games, if I'm not mistaken? As it seems, the latter has been completed. What about the former?"

"Oh, dear President Snow, I wouldn't be a good Cult member if I told you, now would I?"

That does not please him. He motions to the Peacekeeper to his right, who subsequently punches me in the gut. I get the wind knocked out of me, slump to the ground clenching my stomach and gasp for air. In place of fresh oxygen, the sickening mix of fragrances of blood and roses fills my lungs.

I retch, but purse my mouth closed. I will not throw up before the snake eyes of President Snow; I will not let him have that satisfaction! Instead, I gulp the acidic chunks down and stand up defiantly. I bore my golden eyes into Snow's and say:

"If you want to hurt me, have the decency to do it yourself."

He merely scoffs and signals his Peacekeeper again, but this time I catch the man's hand and twist it around snapping it like a twig. He yelps as I hold it, but I don't let go. I then gaze at the second Peacekeeper, the woman, and nod. She steps behind President Snow and pins his arms to his back. The shock on his face is pure gold.

"What is this?" he shouts. "Release me at once!"

_Speak with my voice, Finn_, Embry urges. _I'll make sure to instill the right amount of fear into him._

I relinquish the control of my vocal cords to Embry, whose presence I feel taking over. What follows next is a perfect sample of the Voice, another Bene Gesserit weapon.

"Remember this, Coriolanus Snow: our Order is everywhere," an authoritarian woman's voice speaks from my mouth. "In every district, in every layer of society, even in your own Peacekeeper guard. Know that we are observing you wherever you go, whoever you associate with, at whichever given time. You have no secrets for us.

We see everything and only need to look at you to know your greatest fears. You have no safe haven to hide to. We will consume your every thought from this day forward. You will not have a moment's rest unless we wish you to.

Your empire will crumble, district by district, until nothing is left behind. Your power will slip from your fingers as your hold on the Capitol weakens. Know that this is an inevitable evolution put in motion long before you ever rose to your position. Let that be your only solace."

I feel Embry's presence retreating and regain control of my actions. I see President Snow's expression, stricken with fear. Then I see the female Peacekeeper who the High Priestess ordered to attack me on the train ride here.

"Your black eye seems to have healed nicely," I remark. She scowls and lets go of the President's arms. I follow suit when I release her male colleague. He cradles his broken wrist as he takes his place behind a perplexed Snow.

Then Jessica Maldiva's voice echoes through the room as she announces the start of the final interview. I take my place in the glass tube, leaving the Peacekeepers and the President behind. When the pedestal rises up, I smirk at Snow one last time:

"May the odds be ever in your favor!"

* * *

As mentally straining as my rendezvous with President Snow was, as dull and disappointing the interview with Jessica Maldiva is. Jessica asks Holly about 95 per cent of the questions, so whenever she does turn to me, I immediately give my answer a religious spin. That once again causes Jessica to turn to Holly instead of me. _Oh well, I tried!_

Holly, on the other hand, is handling the interview like a professional. Also, she's wearing a conservative stewardess outfit that matches my pilot suit: a navy blue coat with golden-striped wrists, gold buttons and a gold winged pin, a navy blue skirt, black high heels, and a dark blue stewardess cap with a gold pin. Her hair rests in a side braid, her coat is tied with a golden belt, and a caramel-coloured shawl is knotted around her neck.

When the summary video of our Hunger Games is shown, all my cries for rebellion have been edited out as well as my religious calls. What is shown, though, is how my friendship with Holly grew over the course of two weeks. _So they're blaming our shared victory on our friendship, eh? _Something needs be done quickly, so the people in the districts don't forget what they're fighting for.

"Oh for crying out loud, this is a travesty!" I blurt out in the middle of the interview. The audience – Anthony, Catilina and Bestia luckily not present – eyes me funnily, while Jessica simply ignores me. Fortunately, Holly puts me in the spotlight.

"What do you mean, Finn?" she asks totally bypassing Jessica.

"Our victory should not be celebrated," I start to explain. "22 innocent children died, and for what?"

"So we may live?" Holly plays dumb. It's a good thing I informed her of part of the plan because without her I don't think I could get my signal across to the Cult spies in the Capitol.

"No, so the Capitol can once again terrify us and ensure that we won't question the status quo. I have some news for you, dear residents of Panem: either you question the status quo, or you condemn your children, grandchildren, and all their children to suffer the same fate. Is that really the kind of future you want?"

The audience now starts booing me since they've witnessed this type of monologue too many times before. In response, I stand up and address them:

"For over a century, our people have slaved to ensure your easy life. You decide over life or death because you won a war 74 years ago. You owe us a grave debt!"

I gaze over the heads of the audience, silencing them with my saturated golden eyes.

"And by the will of the Great Mother," I then stress each word as I utter the ancient Bene Gesserit threat, "you will pay."

A moment of confusion follows where the audience fervently whispers amongst itself before I hear the sound I have been waiting for: a deep rumble from beneath the Training Center. Next, explosions go off on the first floor of the Training Center, and then the second floor, the third floor, the fourth...all the way up to the rooftop of the enormous skyscraper.

I quickly run to Holly, pull her close to me and cover us both entirely with my new cloak. Before I close the black fabric over us, I catch a final glimpse of Jessica Maldiva and the audience screaming and fleeing, to no avail, as the entire Training Center comes crashing down in an avalanche of concrete and metal, accompanied by a rain of fire and glass.

As the building collapses, a wave of rubble and dust rushes over the stage – Holly and I included – followed by a second wave of scorching fire. Beneath my cloak, Holly holds onto me for dear life and squeezes her eyes shut as she mumbles a desperate prayer. I clench my cloak tightly together and don't let go, regardless of what I hear or feel, until everything has gone eerily quiet.

I let go of the fire- and blastproof fabric of my cloak, which reveals the catastrophe that took place. The numerous bombs the Capitol-born Cult members smuggled into the Training Center over the course of 74 years certainly had their desired effect. Where once stood a massive, glorious skyscraper, now lies a humongous pile of concrete, metal and glass.

The stage is covered in dust and littered with rubble. The body of Jessica Maldiva lies sprawled over the edge of the stage and is caked with dust. The audience before us is in an even more atrocious condition.

"O my God..." Holly gasps.

"There is no God anymore," I respond, "only war."

**A.N.: So this concludes book 1 of the Finn Hartman chronicles. It sure was one heck of a journey. I will definitely continue Finn's story with a new book called "Bull's-Eye". I have a large amount of ideas I want to incorporate into it, but I just need to organise it a bit, so there's an actual storyline :p Hope you enjoyed reading! I honestly couldn't have done it without all you guys,**

**Enchantednuns xxx**


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